


Uncharted: The Judas Chalice

by ChibiDawn23



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiDawn23/pseuds/ChibiDawn23
Summary: "The Holy Grail grants immortality. This thing? Death and destruction." From a Spanish cargo ship in the Caribbean to a luxury resort in Spain, the globetrotting Drakes are on the hunt for an ancient artifact that causes its possessor to breed chaos! Luckily for the rest of the world, adventure and treasure hunting is the Drake family business. Post U4:ATE.
Relationships: Nathan Drake/Elena Fisher
Comments: 7
Kudos: 6





	1. The Chalice

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit "The Librarian."  
> A little bit "Alex Rider.'  
> A whole lot "Uncharted."

_**Jerusalem, 33 A.D.** _

Darkness.

It covered the land, turning the middle of the afternoon until the middle of the night. At the exact moment The Savior committed his spirit to God, the ground began to rumble. Slow, at first, then more violent. Great cracks split the streets, zigzagging through the streets of Jerusalem, directly through the center of the temple. The shaking wrenched the beams above the altar, and the great purple curtain in front of the Holy of Holies was ripped down the middle, swaying, then falling to the ground.

Screams rent the air as the quakes continued, the sounds mixing with the cracking of the ground and echoing off the buildings still fortunate enough to be standing.

On the hill, above the city in chaos, it was almost silent, save for a low rumbling sound. A stream of red trickled down through the clay, bouncing and swirling through the grass.

A body swayed from the branch of an Aleppo pine, gently rocking with the rumbling earth.

* * *

It was some time later, when the earth had settled, and the sun began to set, when two men picked their way through the grass and boulders of Akeldama. They came upon the body, gazing upon it as it hung now, perfectly still.

"This is he?" the younger of the two questioned. "The man who betrayed The Savior?"

The elder of them nodded. "Thirty pieces of silver, or so the priest tells it." He rummaged through the dead man's robes, his hand retrieving a small purse. He tugged the string, and dumped the contents into his palm. "The cost to stamp out this blasphemous rabble," he added, showing the other man thirty shekels glinting in the fading sunlight, rubbing them with his fingers.

"And the price of our cause," the younger man said determinedly. "The traitor was a martyr for the greater good," he reminded the elder man, as his partner returned the silver coins to their purse. "And so we shall continue to temper the masses when their fervor becomes too great. For with chaos, there comes a time of peace."

He looked at the elder man, seemingly embarrassed by his zealousness. The other man merely smiled at him, amused. "Your commitment to the cause is noted, Brother Ira," he assured him. As voices filtered up through the grasses on the sides of the hill, he murmured, "We must go." As they began picking their way down the other side of the hill, he whispered, "Better to remain hidden until the time is right."


	2. Murphy's Law

_**30 NAUTICAL MILES WEST OF ST. LUCIA, PRESENT DAY** _

Sunlight glittered off the turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea. A light breeze blew the water into small wave, gently rocking the thirty foot houseboat anchored in the waters thirty miles from Micoud, St. Lucia. _Cassandra_ was white, with a blue stripe running around the hull at the waterline. The roof boasted an impressive satellite array; the front of the boat held a winch and a sturdy cable. It gave the impression of both home and office, with two bedrooms boasting double beds, a small combination galley kitchen and living room area with a flat screen television, and a dining room table that currently held a laptop computer along with a spread of digital recording equipment, a shotgun microphone, and several textbooks in a stack at the corner.

Cassie Drake tapped her mechanical pencil against the side of her mouth, chewing on the eraser end as she reread the passage in front of her. The thirteen-year-old's brown eyes were wrinkled in frustration and confusion, and she pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose with one finger.

"Okay, I don't get it," she finally said aloud.

"Read the question to me," her mother, Elena Fisher, prompted from her spot in front of the laptop. Elena's blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her eyes focused on the film clips in front of her of a dashing middle-aged man with dark hair poring over some maps spread out on the back swim deck. While her eyes were on the footage she'd captured the afternoon before, her attention was on her daughter's homework question.

Cassie read the question aloud. "What was the significance of the pilot giving only his name, rank, and serial number to the doctor in the final sentence of the story?" She frowned. "I know it's got something to do with the fact that he's in France, I just don't know _what_."

Elena double-clicked on a single frame, bringing it up fullscreen on the seventeen-inch monitor. "What era are we in?" she questioned her daughter.

"World War II," Cassie replied. "At this point in history, France is occupied territory. The pilot is British, and he was shot down over the English Channel."

Elena didn't say anything, replacing the frame she was looking at with another on the screen, letting her daughter work through the problem out loud.

"And so he's in the hospital, and he thinks he's in Britain, only it turns out he's _not_ in Britain because the sign says _Garde au Chien_ outside his window—'Beware of the Dog.'" Cassie bit her lip, thinking. Then, her eyes lit up behind the black frames of her glasses. "France is _occupied_ territory," she realized. "He's behind enemy lines. And when you're captured by the enemy, the military instructs you to only give your name, rank, and serial number!" she finished triumphantly, looking at her mother expectantly.

Elena grinned inwardly. _Unless you're a certain someone I know, in which case you give sarcasm._ "Exactly," was what she told her daughter, pushing back from the table with a smile. "Very good."

Cassie grinned, writing her answer down in her left-hand slant in her notebook, then closing it with a flourish. "Done! I liked that one," she added, slamming her textbook shut.

"I thought you might, it's right up your alley," Elena replied. "Hey, don't leave your stuff on the table," she warned Cassie, as her daughter got up from the table, headed for the back swim deck of the _Cassandra_. "It'll get lost with all of my things!"

Cassie gathered her schoolwork and jogged to her bedroom, depositing it on her bed, and came back out to the living room, peeling off her tanktop. " _Now_ can I go for a swim?" she begged, her eyes alight.

Elena glanced out at the horizon, studied the weather. She nodded. "I don't see why not," she said. "Lifejacket _on_ ," she added, and Cassie groaned.

"You never tell Dad he has to wear _his_ lifejacket," the teenager argued.

Elena rolled her eyes. "Your father and I agree to disagree on safety protocols," she said. "But we both agree that _you_ wear your lifejacket in open water." Elena checked her watch. _Half hour._ She followed Cassie to the swim deck at the back of the boat and settled onto one of the deck chairs, notepad and a pen in hand, as Cassie leapt into the 80-degree water of the southern Caribbean, sending a spray back onto the teak deck. A few seconds later, she was back to retrieve her underwater camera, another splash punctuating her return to the ocean. Elena chuckled as her daughter rolled onto her stomach, took a breath, and planted her face in the water, the camera up to her snorkel mask. Out here on this shelf, the water wasn't more than twenty feet deep, but clear enough you could see to the bottom. About a hundred yards off their bow, the shelf dropped off to a deep crevasse, where the depth finder gave a max reading of about eighty-five feet deep.

As long as Cassie stayed over the shelf and within eyeshot, Elena didn't mind her being out by herself. She shook her head, balancing her notepad on one knee. Cassie came by her adventuresome nature honestly. Her father, Nathan, was a (semi-retired) renowned treasure hunter and deep-sea salvage expert. And Elena herself was an investigative journalist who had been to some dangerous and exotic locales in her career. At the moment, the family-owned and operated D&F Fortunes was on the trail of the _Tia Alma_ , a 16th-century Spanish ship that had been loaded with silver on its way back to Europe when it sank in a squall of St. Lucia. The ship's silver was purported to still be in the hold; and its' location off the shelf had been hidden until a hurricane earlier in the season had collapsed part of the shelf, exposing the wreck.

D&F had bid on the salvage rights and won, so the family had left New Orleans on _Cassandra_ for the _Tia Alma's_ location. Elena was filming the journey for her network, and Nathan was currently eighty-five feet below _Cassandra_ off the bow down in the wreck, working on the logistics of assessing the cargo and getting it back to the surface. A second ship was meeting them from Panama, a larger vessel with room for the silver and the tools to bring the cargo up from the sunken wreck.

Out of habit, she checked her watch again. _Twenty minutes_. Her husband would be heading up from the bottom soon. _Or at least,_ Elena thought, _he better be._

* * *

Nathan Drake checked his dive computer. _Eighty-five feet and ten minutes before it's time to head up._ He filed that information away and dropped down into the cargo hold of the _Tia Alma_ , currently listing at a 35-degree angle along the sea floor. Most of the hull was rotted away; what wasn't was covered in barnacles and sea life. Nate swam down, flicking on his flashlight as he moved into the darkness. His blue eyes surveyed the room behind his dive mask. _Come on, come on_ , he thought to himself. _Tell me nobody else got here first._

He kicked, propelling himself farther into the hold. Most of the floor was covered in rippled sand, pushed into the space by underwater currents, and the same barnacles and grime covered the walls. _God, it could be buried underneath all this muck_ , he lamented. _Please be here._ Sand swirled, kicked up by the currents, tangling in his spiky brown hair and blurring his vision. _It's like it doesn't want me to find it._

He rolled his eyes. _Like that's the first time that's ever happened. When is it ever easy?_

Nate could hear his wife's voice echoing in his ears. _When it's time to get back up, get your ass back up top_.

 _I'm so close…_ He had to know. He checked his meters. _Five more minutes, and I'll turn around._

* * *

Back on the surface, Elena's eyes snapped open at the sound of a warning tone coming from her laptop. She stood, shielding her eyes. Cassie was still out in the water, floating on her back about ten feet off the back of the swim deck.

"Cass! Time to come in!" Elena dropped her notepad and her pen on her chair as she jogged back into the living space, reaching for the remote for the flat screen mounted on the wall and cranking up the volume.

A red band scrolled across the top of the screen, and Elena paled when she read the two words leading off on the bar:

TSUNAMI WARNING

"Mom?" Cassie asked, toweling off as she came into the room. Her eyes widened when she saw the screen. "Oh no."

"We've got to go," Elena said, checking her watch. Her heart pounded. Nate _should_ have been on his way back up. The question was: Would he get to the boat in time?

* * *

Something flickered in in Nathan's flashlight, and he paused in his search, turning slightly mouth cracked open in a grin and he pushed himself toward a stack of boxes he'd missed on his initial sweep. The hinge on the crate glinted in his light, barely visible behind a coating of grime and barnacles. _Gotcha._

Nate flicked open his utility knife and slid it under the hinge, pushing down hard on the handle as he wedged the blade into the space. Had he been able to hear, he knew there would've been a satisfying creak. He brushed off the other corner with his hand, flicking away the layer of muck that came with it, and popped the other hinge. Then, he slipped his fingers into the crack and pulled up. The box wrenched open and he reached inside, pulling out a silver bar about the size of his palm.

 _Yes!_ Nate keyed the built-in mic in his face mask. "Elena. It's here! The silver is still in the cargo hold-and it looks like it did 500 years ago, it's practically pristine!"

He waited a beat. "Elena?"

There was a crackle in his headset. " _….topside….warning….time!"_

Nathan could hear the panic in his wife's voice. "Elena?" He looked at his meter. _Shit_. He was ascending on borrowed time. "Elena, I'm comin' up!"

* * *

Elena could feel _Cassandra_ starting to rock harder under her feet. "We have to go," she said again, climbing the ladder between the kitchen and the living room for the pilot house on the top deck. Cassie looked up at her through the hatch.

"Mom, what about Dad?" she cried. "We can't leave him down there! He'll be out of air soon!"

"He's safer down there than we are up here," Elena said, pressing the button that raised the anchor. "Cass, we don't have a choice. We can't stay here or we'll capsize, and then we won't be of any help to anybody."

"We can't _leave_ him!" Cassie's eyes were tearing up, and she was halfway up the ladder.

Elena fixed her with a glare. "Cassandra Drake, get off that ladder and get on the radio. Keep trying to raise your dad. Tell him we're headed out of the path and we'll try to come back around when the danger's passed." Her heart was pounding, and she hated herself for doing what they were doing.

But Nate was out of harm's way. She and Cassie, however, were not.

 _We're coming back, Nathan. I promise._ Heart sinking, Elena pushed the throttle forward.

* * *

Nathan heard his daughter's terrified voice cutting in and out over his microphone.

"… _hurry! Tsunami-"_

He stopped in his ascent, his eyes widening. _Tsunami. Oh, shit!_

Knowing what Elena was probably doing topside, Nathan turned and swam back _down_ toward the _Tia Alma_ wreck. If he was lucky, he'd be far enough down that the wave would roll right over the top of him.

_And if I'm luckier, I won't run out of air and drown before that happens!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cassie's homework assignment is from the short story "Beware of the Dog," by Roald Dahl. One of my favorites in school and it seemed appropriate for Cassie :)


	3. Recovery & Discovery

Nathan had just slipped back inside the _Tia Alma_ when his oxygen meter beeped urgently, indicating his low tank. Quickly, he plowed back into the cargo hold, hoping that the bottom of the incoming wave wouldn't push the Spanish ship over. _I need an air pocket, and I need it fast._

He took one final breath from his regulator, and yanked it out of his mouth. _I'm no Tom Cruise but let's see if I can't hit his record._ He looked around the cargo hold, his eyes settling on the open crate of silver he'd pried open earlier. _The open crate of perfectly preserved, shiny silver!_ The manifest in the records had listed a lot more than what would fit in just the single container he'd found.

 _Which means there's gotta be another._ His lungs were burning. As quickly as he could, Nathan swung his flashlight around the hold, and spotted what he was looking for in the far corner. Yanking his dive knife from the sheath, he popped the hinges on the crate and the lid creaked open. The edges of his vision were starting to gray. He wedged the blade of his knife inbetween the lid and the crate and stuck his mouth into the crack, sucking in 15th century air. He'd just finished pulling in a deep breath when his world went sideways. The _Tia Alma_ tumbled sideways, carrying Nate with it. Something slid into him from behind and he went sprawling toward the deck.

* * *

Elena had _Cassandra's_ throttle wide open in a desperate attempt to outrun the tsunami she knew was bearing down on them from behind. She could hear Cassie's choked, desperate pleas for her father to answer her on the radio down below in the galley.

It seemed unbelievable, on what looked like such a gorgeous, typical day in the Caribbean, that an instrument of such destruction was hot on their heels.

 _Nate._ Tears blurred her vision. She swallowed hard, pushing on toward Micoud. _Please, please be safe_.

* * *

Nate's world finally righted, and with it came an acute pain in his left leg. His flashlight had managed to survive the roll, and he played it over his leg. The crate of silver that had given him some extra air was now pinning his left leg between the hull and the crate.

_Great._

Nathan tried to push the crate away, but he couldn't get it to budge at all. _Okay, let's assess here,_ he thought mildly, the thinking keeping his mind off the fact that he was pinned eighty-five feet below the surface of the ocean.

_Hey, at least I survived the tsunami. So there's that._

_Yeah, except you're about to drown,_ the voice in his head reminded him. Nate rolled his eyes behind his mask and told the voice to shut up.

He could feel it. Lungs on fire, clouding vision. The darkness of the cargo hold was getting darker.

Nathan thought of Cassie. Of Elena.

Something hard was forced between his teeth, and Nathan sucked in blessed oxygen. The edges of his vision cleared, and all he could see in front of him was a flashlight…and a pair of familiar gray eyes behind a full facemask.

_Holy shit…you've gotta be kidding me._

Nate's rescuer made a motion with his hands, and Nate understood, shooting him a thumbs up. The diver swam over the top of the crate, digging his feet into the pocket created by Nathan's pinned leg. Nathan put his hands on the side of the box, and the stranger counted to three. Then, the two of them pushed with as much strength as they could. Nate felt the pressure on his leg cease, and he scrambled awkwardly out of the way. The box slid against the hull with a dull thump.

The stranger handed Nathan his mouthpiece again, and Nate took a greedy breath. The stranger looped Nathan's arm over his shoulder and began their ascent through a deep gash in the hull, presumably from the _Tia Alma's_ original encounter with the shelf. On the way up, the two buddy-breathed, and came up slowly. Nathan had been underwater for a long time, and the two of them were worried about the bends, the buildup of nitrogen bubbles in the blood.

The ascent seemed to take forever, but Nathan was pleased to see daylight within view. They broke the surface and he alternately coughed and breathed in blessed air, when he wasn't being swamped with the waves still coming behind the massive tsunami that had knocked _Tia Alma_ over.

The stranger helped him to beat up salvage boat, wrapping Nathan's hands on the ladder. A hand from above grabbed his elbow and helped haul him up the ladder. Nathan winced as his leg met the deck and the pain finally exploded. "Son of a _bitch_!"

"Hey watch it, that's our mother you're talking about there," a voice drawled. Nathan blinked in the bright sun as the face of his older brother, Sam Drake, rocked into view. "Always right in the damn middle of it, huh Nathan?"

Nate grimaced. "I could say the same about you. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad to see you, big brother."

Sam unzipped his wetsuit and stripped out of the top half. "You're welcome," he said simply.

Nathan yelped again as something brushed a particularly painful point of contention on his leg.

"Jesus, kid, what the hell hit you?" the gruff voice of Victor Sullivan wondered as he inspected Nathan's leg. The white-haired, older man who was for all points and purposes Nathan's father figure, was running a hand along Nate's leg, checking for broken bones. He ran a hand over Nate's knee, and the younger man twitched _hard_. "Get outta this suit so we can take a good look at it."

Nate barked out a short laugh. "Now Sully, you know I don't swing that way."

Sully raised a bushy eyebrow. "Don't make me drop you back over the side," he threatened.

In the background, Sam snickered as he swapped out for a pair of board shorts and a loud button-down Hawaiian shirt. Nathan flipped him off good-naturedly. Then, almost as quickly, his face clouded over, and he craned his neck to look at Sam. "Sam, Elena and Cassie. They were-" he began in alarm, but Sam held up a hand.

"They're fine. Elena hauled anchor and hauled ass back for Micoud. We were about ten miles north of the path and I told her we'd check out your coordinates once the tsunami rolled through. It hit that shelf and man, it was like when you're running and you hit a rug off a hardwood floor. The whole ocean just buckled up into a big-ass wave."

"Yeah, it knocked me on my ass," Nate said, relieved that his wife and daughter were out of harms' way. He smiled, a genuine one. "That crate you pulled off me?" he said, looking up at Sam. "Full of silver. It's all there. The entire manifest."

Sam whistled as Sully said, "The whole damn haul from Mexico?"

Nathan nodded. "Guess the Spaniards knew how to pack a bag. Airtight. Looked damn near brand new." He closed his eyes. "'Kay. I'm gonna pass out now."

He heard his brother yell his name before the blue sky above him turned black.

* * *

_**CASTRIES, ST. LUCIA** _

When he awoke again, there was a gentle rocking sensation under him. Nathan opened his eyes carefully to a plain, beige ceiling. He turned his head, seeing a small porthole window with sun streaming through it on his right, and on his left a travel alarm clock and a bright seafoam green bedspread.

"Daddy!"

Something wrapped around his torso an instant after the screech of happiness, and it hurt, but it didn't hurt near as bad as his leg. Nathan wrapped his arms around his baby girl and returned her hug, sitting up carefully on the bed in her cabin. "Hi, sweetheart," he murmured, running his palm over her hair. "Hey, baby."

Cassie's head was buried in his shoulder, and he could feel his t-shirt getting wet. "Daddy we were _so_ scared for you, and I _swear_ we didn't wanna leave you there but Mom had to get us somewhere safe and Uncle Sam and Uncle Sully said they were going to get you and-" She burst into tears and Nathan felt tears of his own in the corners of his eyes. He kissed the top of her head and settled her against his chest as he lay back down. Cassie felt herself sliding onto the bed with him and she was careful not to jostle his leg.

"I'm all right, Cass, I swear. Nothing I can't handle."

"That might be, but I'm too young for a heart attack, Nathan Drake," Elena countered from the doorway. She leaned against it and smiled, feeling her throat tighten at the sight of her daughter and her husband cuddling on the bed.

Nathan smiled reassuringly at her over the top of Cassie's head. "That lie you tell yourself about it being the whatever-anniversary of your thirtieth birthday, you finally believe that, huh?"

She snorted and shook her head. "Watch it or I'll pop the other knee," Elena warned.

"She would, too," Nathan stage-whispered in Cassie's ear. "Your mom's a hell of a shot." He returned his gaze to his wife, a promise in his eyes that she'd get her turn soon enough. _Love you_ , he mouthed to her.

Elena nodded. _Love you, too_ , she mouthed back, and ducked out of the room to give them a moment. Out in the narrow hall, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, relief and adrenaline finally taking over as she fought to stay standing.

There was a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Sam standing there. It was painfully obvious the two were brothers with their matching eyes and rugged features. Nathan had a bit more hair than his older brother, but apart from that, anyone could see the resemblance. Elena reached up and covered his hand with her own, and he pulled her into a hug. He was as relieved as she was.

A half hour later, Cassie helped her father to the small bench couch near the bow of the _Cassandra_. Nate's knee was covered with an ice pack and wrapped tight with an Ace bandage. Sully and Sam were sitting at the table, poring over what looked to Nate like plans for hauling up the silver on their return trip to _Tia Alma_. Elena met Cassie on her way from the galley, nearly dropping the cup of coffee she had in her hand as her daughter squeezed past on her way to her bedroom.

Elena handed the mug to Nathan and sat down next to him on the couch, leaning into him as much as she could without bumping his injured knee. Nate closed his eyes at the sensation of the black coffee sliding into his system. He craned his neck, looking out the window to see Castries, the capital city of St. Lucia, in panorama out the window.

"Island's still in one piece?" he asked.

Elena nodded. "Yeah, the tsunami fizzled out before it hit the island, thank God. Rocked a few boats in the marina, pissed off a couple tourists at the resort, but that was about it."

He nodded. "Good. How's the plan for recovering the silver coming?" he asked his brother.

"Just trying to decide how much we pull from your cut to cover your medical bills," Sam shot back without looking up from the charts on the table.

Nate resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him. "Any idea how bad this is?" he asked, pointing with the coffee mug at his knee.

"Haven't gotten you in to a doctor yet," Elena replied. "Sam and Sully could barely get you off their boat and onto this one, let alone to the hospital to have it looked at. He'll make a housecall later."

Sully opened his mouth, but Nate held up a hand. "Not _one_ word," he hissed. The older man smirked and returned to their work.

Nathan leaned into his wife, savoring this moment of calm after all of the chaos of the day…. _wait_. _Day?_ He looked at Elena. "How long have I been out?" he asked.

"You apparently needed to sleep," his wife replied. "You forced Cassie onto the couch the last two nights."

"Shit, two days?" Nate confirmed, and Elena nodded.

"Scared the hell out of us, Nathan Drake," she told him quietly. He tangled a hand in her hair and lifted her head to meet his for a kiss.

"You want us to come back later?" he heard Sam question from across the room.

"Shut up, Sam," Nathan muttered against Elena's lips, pulling her in deeper.

* * *

A few days later, Nate hobbled to a chair at a beachside bar in Castries, not too far from the marina. The doctor had let him out with a brace and a prescription for some serious painkillers, reminding him to take it easy or he'd make his swollen knee a lot worse.

Sam and Sully were waiting for him. "Jesus, Hopalong, took you long enough," Sam joked, sliding a local beer across the table at him. Nate sat down awkwardly and popped the top off the beer with his teeth. Sam eyed him. "Sure you should be drinking that with your painkillers?"

"Haven't taken them today," Nathan pointed out. "Therefore, I drink." The cold beer felt good in the hot and humid Caribbean sun.

"So we're thinking we'll take the _Fortune_ out to the _Tia Alma_ tomorrow, start loading up the silver and bringing it back in," Sam explained to Nathan as the three men enjoyed the sun. A fan above them in the thatched roof wasn't doing much to circulate any cold air, but the beers were cold, and there was a bit of a breeze coming off the marina. "Contract has some going to the Castries Maritime Museum, some to some museum in Madrid, and then the rest to the guy who'll sign our paycheck," he added.

Nathan nodded. "Yeah," he said, seemingly distracted. "Yeah, that works."

Sully eyed the youngest Drake brother, following his gaze to where his attention sat on the small television mounted above the bar. A news report was coming in from some international affiliate, the captions putting the reporter in Caracas, Venezuela. Behind him, Nathan could see damaged buildings and debris-littered streets. The super across the bottom said something about a 8.6 earthquake. Nate sat up a little straighter, trying to translate the Spanish. _Earthquake….off the coast…tsunami_ …He knew that undersea quakes often triggered the sliding ocean floor that sent tsunami waves off on their paths of destruction, but hadn't realized that's what had triggered the one that had nearly put him out of commission.

But it wasn't even that which had caught his eye. It was something in the background, behind the reporter. A crowd of people had gathered, looking at a destroyed department store in the middle of Caracas.

"Did you guys _see_ that?" Nathan's eyes widened, his sweating beer long forgotten, his attention firmly on the news report now.

His brother and Sully exchanged looks. "See what?" Sully asked him.

"You sure the doc didn't misdiagnose a concussion?" Sam joked, but he could see in his brother's eye…Nathan was on to something. What, he didn't have a clue.

The news cut away, and Nathan turned to his brother urgently. "You go international coverage on your cell?" he demanded.

Sam frowned as he pulled out his cell phone and handed it to his brother. Nathan tapped on the screen, pulling up the same news video that had just been on the television screen. "There. Look right there," he said, pointing to the phone's screen.

His brother eyed him warily, and took the phone, studying the frozen screen grab. "I don't see anything, Nate," he said. "What-"

"Black haired woman, off the reporter's two o'clock," Nate said quickly.

Sam spotted her. She looked Mediterranean in her features, dark hair, olive skin. She was wearing a pair of short denim cutoffs and a bright blue wrap shirt. "She's gorgeous. So what?" She had a shopping bag in her left hand, and in her right- "What's she holding?" Sam asked. It seemed...out of place.

Sully pointed at the two of them with his pointer and pinky fingers. "You guys wanna cut me in on this, or…"

Nathan took the phone away, pinched the screen and pulled out, handing it over to Sully. His friend studied it. "Is that a cup?"

"Why the hell do we care about a cup?" Sam asked his brother, beginning to wonder if he _did_ have a head injury of some kind.

Nathan grinned. Sam knew that look. That was his 'this is something big and historical,' look. "That's not just any cup," he said, eyes glinting. He looked at his brother. "Get the check. We gotta go."


	4. Game Plan

**_PORT OF LA GUAIRA, VENEZUELA_ **

The day was cloudy and humid when the Drakes and Sully put down anchor in La Guaira, Venezuela. The port was the biggest and closest to Caracas. Elena had disembarked shortly after they'd docked, headed for Customs to see if she could wrangle visas for the family to come into Venezuela. She was hoping their story about filming a documentary would fly with government officials, and that the promise of making Venezuela look good to a national audience would sway them not to look _too_ closely at Nate's, Sam's, or Sully's backgrounds.

Nate punched a key and casted Elena's laptop screen up to the flat screen so that everyone could see. Sam and Sully were two cups of coffee in apiece (and Nate was almost _positive_ they were laced with _something_ alcoholic), sitting on the couches, and Cassie was eating a bowl of Cheerios at the kitchen table while her father clicked through a webpage, finally settling on the page he wanted to show.

"So this is it: the Judas Chalice," Nate announced to the room.

His brother stared at the unremarkable cup zoomed in on the screen. It was about the height of a regular wine glass, the mouth wide at the top, with a narrow stem and a flat, silver base. The picture was clearly an artist's rendering, Sam knew the silver would've oxidized after this many years in the hands of people unless something was polishing it on the regular. There were no symbols, no carvings, nothing to indicate the cup was important. "Okay then, Sean Connery," Sam said. "This thing looks like something you used to make outta Play-Doh when we were kids."

"And that's what's allowed it to go unnoticed throughout history," his brother pointed out. "The Chalice is said to have been created from the 30 pieces of silver Judas Iscariot was paid to betray Jesus Christ."

"He gave that money back," Sully countered. "Matthew 27:5: 'And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed.'"

"Yeah, and then the chief priests decided it couldn't go back into the treasury because it was blood money," Sam added. "So they went out and bought ol' Judas his final resting place."

Nate fixed them both with a look. "Mind if I finish?" he asked.

Sam held up the hand that wasn't attached to his coffee mug. "I love it when he gets like this," he whispered to Sully.

"Gets me all tingly," Sully mocked back.

"I hate you both," Nate informed them. "See that's the thing. There's conflicting accounts of Judas's death. Matthew says he went out and hung himself at Akeldama, but in Acts, _Judas_ went out and bought _himself_ the field and he fell out there and managed to disembowel himself."

He looked at his daughter. "How's that cereal, kid?"

Cassie grinned, and took another bite. Nate shook his head. _Iron stomach and a thirst for history_. He had never been so proud. "There's another account that didn't make it into the Bible," Nate continued, "by a writer who swears that Judas was a martyr for a greater cause. This guy writes in a letter dated 33 A.D. that he saw Judas Iscariot hanging from a tree at Akeldama, and that in his pocket were the 30 pieces of silver."

"Okay, so you've got one account that conflicts the Bible," Sully said. "So what?" Nate caught him fiddling with a Sharpie he must have pilfered off the table; he knew Sam and Sully both were trying to quit smoking.

Nate grinned. "That one account?" he repeated. "That one account also states that they took the silver, melted it down, and fashioned it into a silver chalice, and whosoever drinks from that chalice has the power to sow chaos and destruction in their wake. To…bend the elements to their will, to wreak havoc."

He pointed out the window. "Like say, cause an 8.6 earthquake and resulting tsunami?"

Sam leaned forward. Nate allowed himself a grin. He had piqued Sam's interest. "Nate, there's two tectonic plates right here, we're practically on top of the South American Plate," he offered. "What's to say it's not just all a coincidence and what this mystery woman had in Caracas was just a fancy souvenir?"

Cassie looked at her father expectantly. He winked at her, and she settled into her chair, pushing her now-empty bowl away. She knew he'd have an explanation.

"Except that same cup's been sighted at other times in history," Nate said, punching up another tab on the laptop. Like Pompeii just 46 years later." He clicked on a photo of an etching, done in Greece by a sculptor, of a woman fleeing the eruptions of Pompeii, clutching a familiar-looking cup in her hand.

"Or this one," he continued, pulling up a lithograph of another exploding volcano. "1883. Indonesia."

"Krakatoa!" Cassie pronounced, and Nate ruffled her hair even as he zoomed in on a man in the foreground of the photo, both hands wrapped around a silver cup as he ran from the pyroclastic cloud.

"So this thing just causes volcanoes to erupt?" Sully asked, chewing on the cap of the marker.

Nate shook his head. "Not just that," he said. He typed something quickly into the laptop, pulling up a video from a popular site and hit play.

Sam nearly choked on his coffee. "Holy _shit_ ," he said, and Nate crossed his arms triumphantly. He paused the video as Sam got off the couch and got nose to nose with the screen. "Sully, look."

The video was a black-and-white newsreel from Germany in 1944. Adolf Hitler was dead center of the screen, meeting with several of his advisors, his not-yet wife Eva Braun, and several other prominent members of the Nazi party. A man in uniform stood near the back of the group, something in his hands.

"Adolf-goddamn-Hitler?" Sully clarified incredulously.

"Adolf-goddamn-Hitler," Nate confirmed. "That cup's been spotted in _several_ places in history, world-changing, infamous events."

"How come nobody's ever made the connection?" Sam wondered.

"Because everybody's looking at everything else," Nate replied. "Nobody gives a rat's ass about some silver cup when the Nazis are invading."

"So you're saying someone has the Judas Chalice in Venezuela, and they're the ones that caused that earthquake?" Cassie asked.

Nate nodded. "Look at all the unrest in Venezuela. Coupled with this earthquake, and the tsunami…is it really that much of a leap?"

"Someone's after causing a little mayhem," Sully said, and Nate pointed at him in agreement.

Sam glanced up, spotted Elena storming down the dock, headed back for the _Cassandra_. Her cheeks were red, and she looked furious. "Speaking of mayhem," he said, nodding to the door as Elena came onto the boat and stormed into the cabin, sitting down next to Sully in a huff.

"No go on visas," she told the group. "Despite my best efforts, somebody there at Customs is tech-savvy and managed to pull up Sam's criminal record, Nate's stint in jail in Istanbul, and denied us entry into the country. I'm surprised Heckyl and Jekyll didn't follow me back here to usher us out at gunpoint. They couldn't get me out of their _office_ fast enough!"

Elena looked around the cabin. "Okay, you all A) don't seem that surprised, and B) all look like someone ran over your dog. So what's going on?"

"Somebody in Caracas has the anti-Holy Grail," Cassie told her mother.

Elena blew her bangs off her forehead in a puff of frustration. "Of course they do," she said. She looked at her husband. Nate was leaning gingerly against the table. "You're supposed to be off that knee," she scolded him.

"Yeah, sorry," Nate said. "Got excited." He lowered himself to a sitting position, propping his knee up on an empty chair. It had been about three days since he'd seen the doctor in St. Lucia, who had advised RICE-ing his knee. But Nate wasn't good with the Rest part of that acronym, which made the other pieces damn near impossible.

"We have to get the Judas Chalice," Sam said.

"Except we can't even get into Venezuela," Sully pointed at him with the Sharpie. "So how the hell do you plan on doing that?"

"We don't need to get into Venezuela," Nate replied. "We just need to get into _Hotel Verde_."

His proclamation was met with four confused stares. " _Hotel Verde._ It's a beach resort up on the Caribbean coast. Five stars, all-inclusive, and right on the beach."

Elena eyed him. "Okay, I know I just told you to rest your knee, but I don't think that's gonna be the best place to do it."

Nate shook his head. "Was _anybody_ paying attention to that news report about the earthquake?" he questioned, tsking. He pulled up the news report again, sliding the bar at the bottom to a time stamp close to the end of the broadcast. "Got eyes on your girlfriend, Sam?"

Sam smirked. "Yeah, I'm looking."

Nate waited, watching his brother study the clip. "The van," Sam said finally. "It's a resort courtesy shuttle! _Hotel Verde_ is on the side. She's got one foot in and one foot out of it. That's her ride."

"Exactly!" Nate tapped the top of the table with an open palm. "If we can get into the hotel, we can get her passport and room number, figure out who she is, and get the chalice back from her, maybe figure out who she's working for!"

"I can get you into the hotel registry," Cassie spoke up quietly from her place at the table.

Her parents', uncle's, and Sully's eyes all turned to the teenager. "Venezuela has other security issues to worry about that a simple hotel firewall," Cassie explained, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "I can get you her room number and her name, and you could swim to the beach and get into the hotel from the water."

" _How_ can you-" Nate turned to his wife, one eyebrow raised at the guilty look at his wife's face. "Elena…?" he questioned.

"What?" Elena shrugged. "We're counting it as an extracurricular activity."

"Best homeschool _ever_ ," Cassie pronounced with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The history of the Judas Chalice is completely made up. COMPLETELY. MADE. UP. I'm not Dan Brown, nor a Bible historian, everything on the chalice is getting pieced together from Wikipedia and the movie "The Librarian: Curse of the Judas Chalice."


	5. Monkey Business

_**12 MILES NORTH OF CARACAS, VENEZUELA  
** _

_Cassandra_ sat at anchor twelve miles off the Venezuelan coast, just far enough offshore to be in international waters, and not a blip on the radar of the Venezuelan authorities. Cassie Drake sat at her mother's laptop, a Bluetooth gaming headset over her ears. She flicked the microphone down to rest near her mouth as she studied the screen.

"Okay, Dad," she said, her mother and Sully watching from behind her. "Your mystery woman's name is Maria Dominquez," she said into the mic. "Her passport says she's from Madrid, Spain, born on July 17 19-wow, she looks _good_ for her age."

" _Like your mother_ ," Nate teased into her headset, and Cassie's eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

"I'm not going to tell her you said that," Cassie said. "Okay, anyway. The hotel's system says she's in room 601-it's a beachfront with a balcony on the north side of the hotel."

* * *

Nate and Sam stripped out of their wetsuits and stashed them in the resort's boathouse. "Cass, can you find me a floor plan for this place?" Nate asked quietly as Sam stood watch, looking for any resort security.

" _Gimme a sec,"_ his daughter responded.

Sam winked at his little brother. "Look at my talented niece go," he said.

"Yeah, her mom and I are gonna have a good talk when we get back about my daughter's 'extracurriculars'," Nate said wryly.

" _I pulled up some photos from a travel review site from somebody who stayed in room 601,"_ Cass told her father over the radio. _"I can't get an exact location…north side…sixth floor, um…"_

" _There's one picture here with a shot of the port they took from their window,"_ Elena offered. " _So maybe…northeast-ish? High enough up that you could see the deck of a freighter."_

"Seen enough freight ships to last me a lifetime," Nate said, and heard his wife snort.

" _Yeah, same here._ "

Sam was staring up at the hotel, his mind racing through the math. "That one," he said, pointing to a darkened balcony closer to the east side of the building. "Gotta be."

"Yeah, okay," Nate said, rubbing his knee absently.

Sam looked at him in concern. "You good for this, little brother?"

Nate nodded. "Yeah, unless you wanna be the one to monkey up there?"

Sam eyed him. "Why can't you just go through the front door?"

" _Doors are all keycard access_ ," Cassie reported in his ear.

"Of course."

"It's fine," Nate said. He peered up the resort's beach, watching for security, pinpointing cameras. "Arms do most of the work anyway." Sam gave him a wave, and Nate sprinted up the beach, ducking behind a closed fast food cart that was standing idle for the night. There was a line of low pygmy date palms separating the resort proper from the beach, and Nate crouched low behind them, keeping his eye on the camera that sat just above the resort building's entrance.

" _Security, right side, ten paces,"_ Sam whispered in his ear from his vantage point at the boathouse. Nate glanced back, saw his brother perched on the side of the boathouse roof, bare feet dug into the terracotta tiles.

Nate spotted the guard, in white shorts and a blue polo, earpiece and taser. "Yeah, I got him," he whispered back. He waited until the guard walked past him, then, took a running jump and latched onto the side of the alcove just over the entrance and pulled himself up. He laid as flat as he could against the building, pressing into the shadows.

Nate craned his neck, looking above him, estimating the jump to the second floor balconies above him. " _Guy went around the corner,_ " Sam reported. " _You're clear."_

Nate stood, balancing himself on the pointed alcove, and then jumped, his fingers gripping the balcony with ease. He pulled himself up and onto the railing so he could stand, one hand pressed against the side of the building for support, the other already reaching for the next balcony.

" _Shit!"_ he heard Sam hiss in his ear, and Nate froze, balancing on the railing and pressing himself into the wall. " _Whoever's in that room just got home, lights came on,_ " Sam told him. " _Get outta there before they decide to have a rendezvous on the balcony._ "

Nate was already a step ahead of him, grabbing the slats of the next balcony and pulling himself up to the third floor even as he said, "A _rendezvous?_ "

" _Yeah,"_ Sam replied. _"What? I can use big words too. You're gonna have to cross here pretty soon_ ," Sam told him. _"The room you want is on the other side._ "

"Yeah, I know," Nate gritted his teeth, carefully turning so that he could stand on the outside of the slats, his bare heels stuck between the metal slats, hands on the top rail. He straightened so that he was facing the other set of windows, and, as soon as he'd caught his breath, he jumped, arms outstretched, landing almost pantherlike on the side of the next balcony, his hands wrapped around the railing.

" _Look at you, shimmying like a gibbon_ ," Sam teased from the boathouse.

Nate turned in his direction and flipped him off in the darkness.

" _I saw that, you're lucky your daughter and your wife can't see you right now_ ," Sam shot back with a laugh.

"Shut up, Sam," Nate retorted, leaping to the fifth floor balcony.

" _The one you want is right above you,_ " Sam said. " _Lights are off…nobody's home_."

"Kinda like back at the boathouse," Nate couldn't resist. In his ear, he heard Sully, Elena, and Cassie chuckling, and some good-natured swearing in what sounded like Cantonese from his older brother. Nate pulled himself onto the balcony of room 601 and over onto the platform, winded. _I'm getting too old for this shit,_ he thought to himself, and then smirked. _And when did I become Sully_?

Nate retrieved a credit card from his pocket and went over to the balcony doors, a pair of French doors that swung out from inside the room. He stuck the credit card between the doors and jimmied the handles, hearing a satisfying click as the lock disengaged. Then, he slipped inside the room, leaving the French doors open just a crack. The sea breeze and the humid night air followed him into an arctic-feeling hotel room. The room was about the size of any hotel room, but boasted a large porcelain tub with jets and a queen-size bed.

Maria Dominquez was a neat freak, Nate decided, looking around the room. Her suitcase sat on the small table, wide open, and empty. _One of those people that actually uses the dresser,_ he thought, shaking his head. He moved to the dresser, feeling a twinge in his knee as he did so, and slid the drawers open. "All right, Cass, I'm in," he murmured. "Keep an eye on the front door for me, huh?"

He heard Cass's assurance in his ear as he rifled through the drawer in search of the Judas Chalice. The first drawer was nothing but tops and bottoms of clothing items, and he pushed it shut and pulled open the one below it. That one was all intimates, and Nate rolled his eyes at the thought of what his wife would think if he was rifling through another woman's underwear. He could practically hear Elena calling him a pervert in his ear.

"Nothing in the dresser," he said aloud. "Gonna check the room safe."

He made his way to the open closet. The safe sat on a shelf above the rack inside, blinking red at him. Nate knew most hotel safes required the room occupant to put in a 4-digit code of their choosing to lock and unlock the safe.

He also knew there was a way to bypass that, and after a couple of minutes, the safe whirred and popped open. Nate reached a hand in and felt around for anything that felt like the Chalice, but only found Maria Dominquez's passport book, a digital camera, and about $250 in bolivars.

" _Holy shit_ ," he heard Sam whisper.

"What?" Nate asked, closing the safe and listening to the locking mechanism buzz.

" _My girlfriend's here,"_ Sam said. " _Late night swim. Damn. Girl's got legs for days."_

"There's nothing in her room," Nate said, retreating to the French doors. Below, he spotted a figure wringing their hair out on the beach. "Shit, if I go out she'll spot me up here."

" _And security just went into the building_ ," Sam told him.

"Stall her," Nate directed, flattening himself against the hotel room wall. "The only way I'm gettin' out of here is back down the outside of the building. There was a drainpipe on the corner, if I can get to it, I can get out of here."

" _You want me to go talk to the woman who's raining death and destruction in the Caribbean?"_ Sam hissed.

"Like that's the most dangerous thing you've ever done," Nate pointed out dryly.

" _Fair enough. All right, I'll turn on the Drake charm."_

" _That's not gonna get you far,"_ Sully broke in from the boat.

Nate snickered. He poked his head out around the corner and slid out onto the balcony, letting the door click shut behind him. He stayed as low as he could, trying to keep in the shadows, and watched his brother come from around the side of the boathouse. His steps were a little wobbly, and Nate could hear a slight slur in his voice as he chatted up Maria Dominquez. _Just a drunk tourist out for some air,_ Nate grinned. Sam put an arm around Maria and turned her to face the water, and Nate took his chance, launching himself off the balcony railing for the drain pipe. It groaned under his weight, and he slid down it like a fireman's pole to the next bracket holding it against the stucco exterior wall. A few more slides and he dropped to the grass, this time _definitely_ feeling it in his knee. He stayed crouched low along the small palm trees, his eye on his brother and their target through the fronds. Then, it was a quick run on the sand to the boathouse, where he slipped inside, going for his wetsuit and dive mask.

A few moments later, Sam came in after him, letting the door quietly close behind him. He gave a low whistle. "She's gorgeous, and that accent? Man. It's a pity she's trying to kill us all."

"Sounds like just your type," Nate shrugged, tugging on his mask and tanks. "Elena, pull up the anchor. We're headed your way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the 'shimmy like a gibbon' line is from the Uncharted playthroughs on RetroReply, Nolan North's (Nathan Drake) YouTube channel. Troy Baker (Sam Drake) was watching him play through Drake's Fortune and when he was climbing the side of the fortress told him he was 'shimmying like a gibbon.' Just a fun, random Easter Egg.


	6. A Rockstep in the Right Direction

_**12 MILES OFF THE COAST OF VENEZUELA** _

Nate emerged from the water, spitting out his regulator as he climbed the ladder onto _Cassandra's_ swim deck. He sat on the edge of the deck as he tugged off his flippers and tossed them onto the deck. Sam was close behind him. Above them, the stars and a full moon glinted brightly in the night sky. The houseboat was rocking gently in the water. Elena and Cassie met them at the stern as Sully steered them out toward international waters.

"How's the knee, Tarzan?" Elena asked him as Nate stood, pulling himself up by the rail.

Nate winced as he followed her into the cabin. "Little sore," he admitted, and Elena rubbed his arm sympathetically as she walked him down the narrow hall.

"Yeah, when the doctor told you to elevate your knee, I don't think that is what they meant," Cassie teased him, following behind them. Her Uncle Sam grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, ruffling her hair.

"Ha, kiddo. Funny." Nate walked gingerly to the couch at the bow of the ship and plopped down, sliding a pillow underneath his leg. Sam was rummaging in the tiny freezer in the galley, and tossed a bag of frozen mixed vegetables at his brother. Nate caught it with one hand and set it over the top of the leg of his wetsuit.

"So now what happens?" Elena asked, sitting down on the floor with her back to the couch. Nate accepted a bottle of water from his daughter, and Cassie sat down in one of the kitchen chairs next to her Uncle Sam and leaned against his chest. Her glasses started moving up and down of their own accord, and she swatted Sam's hand away with a grin as he pushed down on the temples of her glasses.

Sully's voice boomed from the pilothouse, "I say we make for St. Lucia and get as far away from Venezuela as we can, but that's just me."

"Then drive faster!" Sam yelled up at him. He looked over at his brother. "I do miss my boat," he admitted to him. "Don't like leaving her alone like that."

"The problem is we don't have any way of knowing if this Maria is staying in Venezuela, or where she's going next," Nate said. "If we lose her and the trail goes cold-"

"You'll be playing catch up at the next natural-or _not_ so natural-disaster," Elena cut in.

"And we definitely don't want to do that," Nate nodded.

Elena got up from the couch, tugging Cassie out of her uncle's grip and over to the galley, where she started searching for something for the family for dinner. "Maybe we shouldn't focus our efforts on her," she suggested.

"Where should we be looking?" Nate asked her, shifting on the couch so he could face her instead of out the front of the boat.

Elena handed Cassie a bag of frozen mixed vegetables and some frozen fish fillets her uncle had reeled in a few days ago in St. Lucia. "What started you on this crusade in the first place," she told him. "The Judas Chalice."

Sam glanced up from the game of Solitaire he'd started at the table. "Not following," he said.

Elena came back into the room, leaving Cassie for dinner duty. "When I was filming my show, one of the guys I spoke to…it's been forever, maybe about 25 years ago, anyway, he lives in Miami Beach and he's got a background in so-called cursed objects."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Cursed?" he repeated, amused at the adjective.

Elena returned the eyebrow. "It gives the holder supernatural abilities to cause people and nature to bring chaos," she pointed out, and Nate shrugged, conceding the point. "He lives in Miami. Rhean Warrick is his name-"

"Did you just say Rhean Warrick?" _Cassandra_ slowed almost to a stop, and Sully came down the ladder, hopping off the bottom rung, looking at Elena.

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Sam wondered out loud. Nate nodded-it sounded familiar to him too, though he wasn't sure why.

Sully hummed a tune under his breath, throwing his hands in the air when the younger generation continued to look at him, utterly lost. "Rhean Warrick," he said again, as if repeating the name would somehow trigger something. "Jesus, I'm showin' my age, apparently."

Elena grinned. "Rhean Warrick was the lead singer of Cheetah Tonic." Sully nodded approvingly at her taste in music.

Sam nearly spit out his soda. "Cheetah _what-_ ic?" he choked.

"Cheetah Tonic," Sully said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He gestured at the two Drake men. "Elena, educate these morons."

Elena quoted the heavy metal band's stats from memory. "Three Grammy Awards, four American Music Award nominations, and in their career which spanned the 70s well into the early 90s before pop music took over, sixteen number one singles, just one behind The Beatles."

Sam whistled, and Nate said, "Hard rock doesn't seem like your forte, Elena. I'm impressed. Married almost 14 years and I'm learning something new about you every day," he winked at her.

Elena shook her head. "It's not. And _he_ wasn't, either. I remember him being very arrogant and trying to control the shoot," she explained. "As if the Grammys on his mantle somehow made him superior to my camera crew."

"So typical rockstar swagger," Sam said.

"Yeah. Anyway, supposedly his collection is second only to the Warrens in terms of supernatural objects," Elena continued. "If anybody knows anything about the history of the Judas Chalice, and its patterns of popping up in history, it would be him." She got up to help Cassie with the food. "But I refuse to talk to him. I'll get you in, but I'm not going anywhere near that big-haired, screaming egomaniac. Once was enough."

"Tell us how you really feel," Sully smirked as Elena blew by him into the kitchen.

Nate looked from his brother to Sully. "Guess we're headed for Florida," he told Sully. "We'll stop in St. Lucia for fuel and supplies and make our way that way."

"And we've got a load of silver to salvage," Sully reminded them.

"Race you there," Sam grinned, and Nate shot him a thumbs up.

* * *

_**A week later, somewhere south of Puerto Rico** _

Nate stared absently at the horizon, one arm resting on the wheel as he sat sideways in the captain's chair, foot resting on a small stepstool propping his knee. Off the port side, he could see Sam and Sully in the _Fortune,_ its' cargo hold laden with silver, at about his eleven o'clock. The salvage on the _Tia Alma_ had been pretty routine, and now both boats were en route to Miami, Florida, cruising through the interior of the eastern Caribbean Sea.

"Hey, Dad!" Cassie's voice jolted him to the present and he glanced down to see her coming through the hatch, hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked so much like her mother, Nate mused, giving her a one-armed hug as the teenager rested her hands on the back of his chair. She had the Drake eyes, but everything else of Cassie's was her mother's.

"Hey, kiddo. How goes the English homework?"

She shrugged. "'sokay," she replied. Cassie made a face. "I hate trying to figure out Greek roots."

"They're a lot simpler than you think," Nate replied, bopping her lightly on the chest with his head. "We actually owe a lot of the English language to the Greeks," he explained. "Especially a lot of words in science and technology, something your mom and I rely on quite a bit in our line of work."

"I'm going to be a YouTube influencer," Cassie said flatly. "No Greek roots needed."

Nate gasped and put a hand over his heart. "You wound me."

"I'm kidding...kind of. So, I was doing a little bit of playing on the computer," Cassie began, and Nate eyed her. He'd begun to realize that when Cassie said she was 'playing' on the computer, it usually meant there was something illegal involved. As her father, he felt he should condone the practice; but as Nathan Drake, explorer and treasure hunter, he was secretly pleased with her newfound talent.

"Oh you were, huh," was all he said.

"Yeah. You know that Maria woman from Venezuela? The one with the chalice? Uncle Sam's girlfriend?"

Nate refrained from rolling his eyes, and made a mental note to remind his brother the ladykiller to watch what he said over the comms. "What about her?"

"Well," Cassie said excitedly," I was looking her up online and it turns out her passport says she's from Madrid, but she was born in Miami, where that Warrick guy mom doesn't like is from."

 _Huh._ "Really?"

"Yeah, so maybe, like, they're connected somehow!" his daughter grinned.

Nate was silent, thinking. _Certainly can't be a coincidence,_ the voice in his head told him. _Definitely seems like we're heading in the right direction._ He blinked, realizing his daughter had asked him something, and he hadn't been listening. "Sorry, sweetheart. What'd you say?"

"So, is this what it was like?" Cassie repeated her question, and Nate glanced at her.

"What what was like, Cass?" he asked.

"You and Mom. Uncle Sam and Uncle Sully. Like, back in the day. Before I was born." Cassie sat cross-legged on the floor of the pilothouse, looking up at her dad, wide-eyed.

Nate coughed. "Well, kinda," he admitted. "Lots of international plane tickets, lots of digging around in old temples and trekking through jungles."

"It sounds amazing." Cassie hugged her knees. "Like Indiana Jones, but real life!"

Nate bit his lip. "Indy had it easy," he muttered. Aloud, he said, "Honestly, kiddo, my greatest adventure has been being your dad and watching you get to grow up. And your mom and your Uncles Sam and Sully would tell you the same thing, I bet."

"Do you ever miss it?" Cassie asked. "Like, I mean, you're kinda doing it right now, but do you ever miss how it was before I was born?"

 _Did he miss it?_ Nate wondered. He thought of Charlie and Chloe, of Harry Flynn, Nadine. Of Talbot. Temples, biological weapons, firefights. "Not in a million years," he told Cassie adamantly. "And to tell you the truth, this makes me a little nervous too, having you and your mom along on this one. Because your mom and I have told you that sometimes, this can get scary, like it did with the tsunami." _And Trees of Life, and killer mercenaries, and Panamanian jails…_

"I'm not nervous," Cassie told him. She got up off the floor and kissed the top of his head. "You and Mom and Uncle Sam and Uncle Sully will keep us all safe."

She started climbing back down the ladder. "Back to Greek roots," she sighed.

_You and Mom and Uncle Sam and Uncle Sully will keep us all safe._

Nate waited until he was sure she was down on the main deck. Then, he let out a breath. "I hope so," he admitted quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Cheetah Tonic"'s musical stats are based off of Motley Crue. My friend Sharleen came up with the name Cheetah Tonic- you should see her Scattegories answers ;). And the Warrens that are name dropped are Ed and Lorraine Warren, the real-life inspiration behind the characters in "The Conjuring" series, who really do have a room full of 'haunted' items in their home.


	7. Bringing the Heat

"No."

Cassie blinked pleadingly at her father as Elena grinned, watching the exchange from the table with her morning coffee. She was solidly on the side of her daughter in this case, and was watching with interest to see if her husband caved to their teenager.

"But Da-ad," Cassie whined. "It's _Miami Beach_!"

Nate shook his head. "It's _expen-si-ive_ ," he whined back.

 _Cassandra_ and _Fortune_ were moored in slips side by side. Sam and Sully were wheeling and dealing with Customs with their cargo of silver. The Drake-Fisher family was wheeling and dealing with their teenager, who wanted desperately to stay in one of the beachfront hotels on Miami Beach instead of on the boat while they were in port.

Cassie pointed out the window at the _Fortune_. "You're about to get paid for the cargo of the _Tia Alma,_ " she pointed out. She tugged on her dad's arm. "Come _on_ , Dad…"

"Personally, I'd love an actual shower," Elena said casually from her place at the table. Nate glared at her, and she smirked at him over the rim of her coffee cup. "And decent internet so I can get this footage uploaded back to the network."

Nate looked back and forth between the two loves of his life. Then, he sighed. "Well, clearly I'm outnumbered, so…"

Cassie whooped and threw her arms around him. "I have the perfect place!" she enthused. "I'll go make the reservation, how long are we gonna be in Miami?"

"At least through Friday," Elena said.

Nate frowned. "That's awfully specific," he said. "Why three days in Miami? The longer we stay here, the farther away the Judas Chalice can get!"

Elena shook her head, holding up a finger as she finished her coffee, then turned her laptop around to face her husband. The _Miami Herald_ 's entertainment section was open on the page. Nate sat down next to his wife, looking at the paper.

"'Last Surviving Member of Cheetah Tonic Announces Farewell Tour'," Nate read. He looked at Elena. "Look, there were a _lot_ of weird band names in the 70s and 80s, but _that_ one beats 'em all."

"Warrick's kicking off the tour at his home in Miami Beach on Friday night. Big black tie thing," Elena explained. "The way I figure it, it's the perfect opportunity to do some digging around."

She looked up at her husband. "Besides," she added sweetly, "the hotel Cassie is looking at has a minimum three-night stay during their busy season. We just want you to get your money's worth out of it."

Nate rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, I'm sure you do." He moved around the table, massaging his wife's shoulders. Elena moaned and leaned forward so he could dig his fingers into her shoulders. "And," he added, leaning down so he was right in her ear, "the idea of a decent shower sounds pretty good. Especially if our daughter can swing a two bedroom suite."

"Mmmhmm," Elena breathed. Nate trailed a line of kisses from behind her ear down her neck. "Cass?" Elena called out breathily. "See if you can't finagle a suite out of this place. Your dad's buying!"

* * *

_**The Majorca Hotel, Miami Beach  
Two days later** _

Elena let herself into the hotel room and was met by a peal of laughter. Smiling, she made her way around the corner to the small seating area. Nate and Cassie were seated next to each other on the couch, two game controllers in their hands. Elena shook her head; Nate couldn't go anywhere without that gaming system, it had logged a lot of flight hours. The two of them were working their way through some first-person shooter, and try as he might, Nate could not turn their daughter into much of a shot.

"….by a mile!"

"It's the mechanics!" Cassie argued. "I aim there, the game puts it above his head!"

"Nah, kiddo, pretty sure that's user error," Nate joked. He glanced up, saw Elena standing in the doorway, and grinned at her. "Better let Mom take over," he told her, scooting sideways to make room for her.

Elena slid between Nate and Cassie and took the controller from her daughter as Nate unpaused the game. "The trick," Elena said, as the two of them made their way through the hall, "is to aim a little lower than center mass." A zombie villain popped out of nowhere, and Elena blew it away. "The mechanics will pop the shot up, just like a pistol will kick in real life."

Nate fired, a headshot that sent the zombie spiraling. "Or," he said, "it could be user error."

Cassie watched the two of them battle their way through the deserted streets. "You're right, Dad, Mom _is_ a better shot," she said, sneaking a look sideways at the expression on her dad's face. Nate stuck his tongue out at her.

"Any luck on those invites?" Nate asked Elena as they played through the game.

"Got two," Elena replied. "7:00 p.m. on Friday night. Black tie."

Nate grimaced. "I hate my tux."

"That's why you're not going in one," Elena said, and Nate grinned…until he realized the implications of that statement.

"Anybody home?" Sam called from outside the hotel room door. Cassie uncurled herself from the couch and moved to go answer her uncle

Nate's onscreen character dove for cover and Elena's popped out from behind a wall, firing ahead into a pod of zombies. "Hell yeah, that's right…what did you mean, I'm not going in one?"

"Scooch," Sam said, sitting down next to Elena. Sully followed behind Cassie, a beer from the hotel bar in his hands.

"Wellll," Elena began, "Sam and I were talking-"

"Famous last words," Nate joked.

"Ha." Sam reached over and swiped Nate's controller, driving his onscreen character directly into a horde of zombies, who proceeded to tear him apart.

"Hey! What the hell?" Nate protested, fumbling the controller as Sam tossed it back to him.

"Needed your attention," Sam explained with a grin. "As your lovely wife was saying, she and I were talking about this shindig that Warrick's having."

"I managed to get a couple of press passes," Elena explained. "I'm citing it as a follow up to my story."

"I see. And why is Sam your eye candy, exactly?" Nate asked.

"Should be obvious, shouldn't it?" Sully drawled. Nate leaned back on the couch, giving him an 'excuse me?' Look. Sully pointed at him. "You know more about the chalice than your brother does," Sully stated. "Sam and Elena are the distraction for you to sneak in and check out his collection."

"Right," Nate said dubiously.

"Actually, that's exactly the plan," Elena continued. "We'll pump Warrick for information- _subtly_ , _"_ she added, with a knowingly glance at Sam.

He held up his hands. "Hey, I'm always subtle."

"Like an elephant in a fridge," Cassie snorted.

"Watch it, kiddo."

" _Anyway_ ," Nate cut in. "And so while you're flirting with cheetah-print Keith Richards, what am _I_ doing, exactly?"

Elena chuckled at his description of Rhean Warrick, not too far off the mark. "You'll be looking for his artifact collection, seeing if there's anything about the Judas Chalice."

"What about me?" Cassie piped up from where she was standing near Sully. "I wanna help!"

"Somehow I think this is an adults-only party," Sully muttered to her.

Elena nodded. "Sorry, Cassie, you'll be staying right here with Uncle Sully."

"But-" Cassie protested. Elena shook her head.

"Things could get a little tense at this party-that's sort of the way things go," Nate said. "We need you here, just in case. Besides," he added, with a glance at Sully, "Uncle Sully is lousy at this game. It'll be good practice for you."

Cassie rolled her eyes, knowing her dad was patronizing her. "Whatever."

"I feel you, kid," Sully groused. "Glorified baby sitter."

"We prefer to think of you as glorified kid insurance," Nate insisted. He knew why Sam had suggested it be him and Elena going in. If things went south, as they were wont to do when the Drakes laid out best plans, Cassie would have a good chance of at least one parent coming out of it. If not, Victor Sullivan was well-aware that he was Cassie's godfather, and guardian, just in case.

* * *

_**Miami Beach  
Friday evening** _

"Pretty sure that invite says 7PM!" Nate called out to his wife from the couch, consoling their sulking daughter. Cassie rested against his chest, arms crossed over her chest, staring at the muted television screen on the wall. Nate was dressed in a dark gray Henley and blue jeans to blend into the shadows, while his brother, Sam, adjusted the bowtie at his throat in the wall mirror. "Sam, you're beautiful, give it a rest."

"You wish you could pull off this look, little brother," Sam countered, tugging on his jacket to straighten it out.

"Oh no, I leave the monkey suit look to you," Nate deferred with a roll of his eyes. He glanced at his watch again. "Elena!"

The bathroom door opened, and his wife stepped out, and Nate forgot how to breathe. Elena was dressed in a black, glittery, ankle-length dress with a slit halfway up her thigh. The straps were studded with rhinestones, and she'd complimented the dress with a pair of glittery diamond stud earrings and a floating, pear-shaped diamond pendant around her neck. Her hair was swept up and held in place with a diamond barrette.

She moved to stand next to Sam, threaded her arm through her brother-in-law's. "Well, we make quite the pair, don't we?" she grinned, gazing up at him.

"Hell yeah, we do," Sam agreed. "What do you think, little brother?" he asked Nate.

Nate blinked. "I-yeah. Yeah, you look amazing," he stuttered.

"Well, I'm glad you think so," Sam kidded. His face turned serious. "So we all know the plan?" he asked.

Nate swallowed, remembering what was going on that night…and reminding himself that when they got back to the hotel, Elena would need helping out of that damn dress. "Yeah, we're good," he said. "Party should be in full swing by about 8, I'll swing in then."

"More than likely there's going to be a big media announcement about the tour," Elena said. "With everybody gathered around for it, that should leave it relatively light around the rest of the house for you."

"Works for me." Nate looked at their daughter. "Cass? You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah…I'm fine…" She looked up at her mom. "Dad said if you took any longer in the bathroom _he_ was going to go as Uncle Sam's date," Cassie said accusingly.

Elena's jaw dropped and Nate turned red. "Traitor," he whispered to her. Cassie leaned into him with a satisfied smirk.


	8. Reunion Tour

_**Friday  
Miami Beach, Florida** _

Sam gave a two fingered wave at the crowd of paparazzi outside Rhean Warrick's stately beachfront home. Several of them demanded to know who he was, and Elena had never been so happy to be o the B-list. She and Nate had picked the networks they sold footage to very carefully so that they stayed out of the limelight. So while she had that vague 'you're someone we should know' vibe, Sam, with his easygoing nature, helped her blend in.

Sam escorted her up the set of stairs to the French doors that were propped open with a pair of potted palm trees and swiped a glass of champagne off a waiter's tray as they entered. "For you?" he offered the flute to Elena.

Elena grinned. "Such a charmer, Sam Drake. And no, thanks, one of us should keep a clear head through this." She glanced around the open foyer, looking for the host of the evening. "Warrick's a hard guy to miss, but keep an eye out for him."

Sam was surveying the open floor. "So what's the angle we need to play? How do we get on his good side?" he asked Elena, taking a sip of the champagne and grimacing. "Guy's got money for days but he skimped on the alcohol tonight," he said. "Cheapskate."

Elena smirked. "I think he spent it all on the self-promotion," she noted, gesturing around at the décor. There were more than one life-size standees of the Cheetah Tonic frontman around the room, each of the rocker in a large amount of animal print and things that glittered. Cheetah Tonics's album covers had been blown up and plastered around any open wall space. Disco tiles had been fitted to the floor into a large dance space, and a DJ was playing the band's greatest hits with a mix of 70s and 80s rock. Lights above them splashed in different colors, pulsing to the beat.

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Definitely not my taste," he admitted. "Right up Sully's alley though, no wonder he's half deaf. Let's hope my little brother can get in and out so I don't have to listen to the entire vinyl." He winked at his sister-in-law. "Besides, I'm with you much longer in that dress and I'm not responsible."

"You're lucky Nate went without earpieces tonight," Elena admonished Sam. The older Drake brother laughed, and pulled her onto the dance floor. At Elena's Look, he shrugged. "Easier to spot everybody from in the middle of everybody," he pointed out. "And we're blending in."

"Right," Elena rolled her eyes, but laughed as Sam pulled some disco moves, drawing her further onto the floor.

* * *

Outside, decidedly far from the middle of everything and _very_ underdressed for a party, Nate waited for the Miami-Dade police officer patrolling the back fence to make his way around the corner before hopping the chain-link fence and ducking behind a lit water fountain. A breeze twisted its way through the back lawn of the property, sending a spray of sea air and what smelled like hibiscus wafting through the yard. The grass was wet, no doubt from a below-ground sprinkler system. He could feel it seeping through his jeans at the knees. He crouched in the back corner, waiting for the patrol to walk by again, and then ran across the grass until he made it to the shadow of the house.

He pushed his way through some kind of flower bushes, looking for his entry point. According to his wife, the collection was somewhere in Warrick's basement. "Typical showboating," she'd rolled her eyes. "The room looks like some medieval castle dungeon or something."

"Always the showman," Sully had grunted, and Nate and Sam had agreed.

He spotted an egress window buried in a fancy-looking rock garden and slipped his Swiss Army knife from his jeans pocket. "Next time," he whispered to himself, jimmying the window, " _I_ get to wear the tux."

* * *

"I see our man," Sam whispered to Elena as a raucous applause burst from the audience. The two of them stopped in the middle of the dance floor and turned in the direction everyone else was facing, toward a large grand staircase that came down from the second floor.

The DJ struck up a hard-hitting tune with screaming electric guitar and heavy, 80s' style bass as Rhean Warrick made his grand entrance. The rocker had to be in his 70s, Elena guessed, with a gray ponytail underneath a cheetah-print cowboy hat. The shirt he wore was a shiny black silk with a cheetah-print coat, bell-bottom pants, and silver-tipped black cowboy boots. He flashed the crowd a wide smile full of pearly-white teeth, and a peace sign with his ring-laden fingers. "Gooood evening Miami Beach!" he crowed, his voice loud enough to carry without amplification. The crowd burst into cheers like they were at a rock concert.

Elena applauded politely, trying to keep her face neutral. She remembered how crass and belittling the rockstar had been the last time she'd interviewed him, as if he was still living in the 70s and the women's rights movement hadn't happened. "Could use that champagne right about now," she muttered to Sam through her tight-lipped smile.

"Fake it 'til you make it," Sam grinned back. "He's looking right at ya." Indeed, Warrick had been eyeing Elena since his pose at the top of the stairs, and Sam hadn't missed the way his green eyes had started at Elena's hips and moved up. _Good thing I'm here with her,_ he though to himself as Warrick pushed his way through the crowd, greeting folks as he went. _Nate would kill him._

* * *

Whoever had installed Warrick's windows must have known a thing or two about security. The window didn't want to budge. Sighing, Nate put his knife away and pulled his sleeve down to cover his face as he raised his arm and planted a boot through the glass. The glass shattered, and he slipped his way inside before someone spotted him. He landed on some insanely-plush carpet and wondered who installed carpet like that in their basement, but was glad that it cushioned and silenced his drop into the house.

"Now if I were a medieval dungeon in an art-Deco house, where would I be?"

* * *

"I know you!" Warrick thundered as he made his way to Elena and Sam. He offered a big hand to Elena and she shook it, plastering on what Nate called her 'media' smile, the one that she reserved for interviews and on-camera. He snapped his fingers, trying to recall the name of her show. " _Uncharted History_!" he exulted with a grin.

"That's the one," Elena nodded. "It's wonderful to see you again, Mr. Warrick."

"Oh, Rhean, please," the rocker countered. "My friends call me Rhean, and after our first interview," he said, his eyes drifting to the plunging neckline of her dress, "I'd call us friends, wouldn't you?"

Sam stiffened, ready to step in if he needed to, but Elena squeezed his hand.

"Rhean it is," Elena said smoothly, draping Sam's arm around her neck and dropping his hand near her necklace so he could fiddle with the jewel- and take away Warrick's visual. "I hear there's big news coming from you this evening?"

"Oh, world-changing," Warrick said, a hint of humor in his eyes. "That is," he added, "if you're a rock and roll fan over the age of say, 50."

"The classics never die, Mr. Warrick," Sam interjected, offering him the hand that wasn't around Elena's shoulders. "Sam Drake," he introduced himself. "S&S Salvage," he added.

"Modern day pirates," Warrick said, and Sam's toes curled inside his expensive shoes. "Kidding!" Warrick added with a grin. "Of course. Someone's gotta find it so Miss Fisher can film it, isn't that right?"

"Yep," Elena replied, "they do my dirty work." She put a little stress on the 'dirty', and Warrick's congenial facial expression faltered, before he quickly masked it with another grin.

"Well. Perhaps after my big news tonight, Miss Fisher, you'll want to follow something a little more _lively_ around the world than some old artifacts." Warrick nodded to Sam. "If you'll both excuse me," he said, and disappeared into the crowd.

Sam looked down at Elena. "What a douchebag."

"And that happy persona's as fake as his teeth whitener," Elena agreed. She shivered. "Ugh I can't handle much more of being in the same room with his ego. Let's hope Nate has something on the chalice so we can get out of here."

* * *

Nate felt like he'd stepped into the Tower of London, or Trinity College, as he surveyed the room he was standing in. Unlike the opulent interior of the rest of the house, this floor was bare, laid with tile to look like a medieval castle floor. The walls had been textured and tiled in much the same way. Electric wall sconces looked like flickering torches.

"Elena wasn't kidding," he noted, looking around. Heavy, oak-finished and glass-fronted cabinets lined the room, reminding him very much of the Museo Maritime in Cartagena. "Holy shit," he breathed, walking around the room. Several of the objects were things he knew from popular culture. Under glass in the middle of the room, a piece of the chassis of "Little Bastard," James Dean's car; inside another locked cabinet under a low lamp, a painting of a little boy and a female china doll. Nate stepped up to a simple, three-legged wooden stool bolted to the wall and examined the placard mounted underneath it, then moved on to a silver vase sitting on a wooden stand.

"It's like Ripley's Believe It or Not down here," Nate whispered to himself as he examined Warrick's artifact trove.

"I believe you're a little underdressed," an accented voice noted from behind him. Nate froze, and turned around carefully, both hands in the air. He came face to face with Maria Dominquez, wearing a stylish red minidress and matching heels.

Nate's eyes drifted to her hand. "That ah, that nine mil accents the dress nicely," he managed to say.

Maria nodded. "Handbags and jewels are so cliché," she responded easily. "Might I ask what you're doing down here?"

"What, me?" Nate feigned confusion. "I mean, I'm on the security detail and got turned around. Miami-Dade PD. Hard not to get distracted by all this," he gestured around the room.

"It is quite the trove isn't it," Maria agreed, running her fingers over the top of a glass case containing an Egyptian ankh. "Not what you'd expect in the basement of one of the world's greatest musicians."

 _I don't know about 'greatest,'_ Nate thought, but kept his opinion to himself. "Yeah," he said instead, deciding to stick with his cover story. "So all this stuff, it's supposedly like, haunted, or cursed, or something?"

Maria nodded, her gun still remaining firmly aimed at his forehead from across the room. "As one might expect, Mr. Warrick is a bit… _eccentric_ ," she said. "Comes with the job description, I suppose."

"Ozzy without eating bats?" Nate offered, and Maria flashed him just a hint of a smile.

"In their heyday, Cheetah Tonic went on world tours, seeing many countries and performing for millions of devoted fans. And in each country, Mr. Warrick always made a point of learning the local myths and legends." She nodded to the car part. "They make for a hell of a story. And all good songs are really stories."

Nate wanted to argue that he couldn't hear the story in a Cheetah Tonic song over the screaming lyrics, but decided the 'devoted fan' in the room with him might not appreciate that. "So what made you a fan, Miss-"

"Maria," Maria introduced herself. Her voice got quiet and her eyes flickered to a point over Nate's shoulder. "It's the _passion_ ," she explained. "The work, put into the notes, into the lyrics. Mr. Warrick's devotion to philanthropy. You know, he recently gave over two million dollars to protecting the rainforest in Venezuela."

Nate jumped on it. "Venezuela? There was just a big earthquake there, wasn't there?"

She nodded. "I was there, in Caracas, when it happened. A terrible thing. The whole city shook. Millions of bolivars in damage."

He gestured to her. "You look like you made it out all right," he told her.

Maria voice was thoughtful with her answer. "I was…protected," she said simply.

* * *

"Can I get everybody's attention?" Warrick was standing in front of an actual microphone this time, instead of his booming voice. Elena grimaced at the grating sound of his voice now amplified over the entire room.

The crowd quieted, and Warrick smiled. "Hey, first off, huge thank you to everybody for coming out tonight!" He screamed it much as he might have to an arena full of concertgoers, and the room erupted, save for Elena and Sam, who stood near the back, surveying the crowd. "Seriously," Warrick said, his voice matching the sentiment, "thank you very much for being amazing supporters of my bandmates and mine's music, and charitable organizations, over the last thirty years." His voice cracked. "I know if the guys were still alive, they'd be profoundly, and deeply grateful." He paused, composing himself.

Elena rolled her eyes. "Sully was right," she whispered. "A showman to the end."

"Enough booze and drugs and no wonder everybody thought he was practically the Second Coming," Sam replied. "Guy's got charisma for days."

"Anyway," Warrick continued. "I just want to say thank you again, and now," he added, rubbing his hands together, his face lighting up, "I need to announce the big news you all came here for. As you know, this year is the 30th anniversary of our number one single, "The Devil's Own," and in celebration of that, I would like to announce that Cheetah Tonic is going back on the road!"

There was a gasp from somewhere, and confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. Warrick coughed, embarrassed. "Well, okay, not the entire band obviously, but starting on the 30th of this month, I'll be kicking off a Cheetah Tonic World Tour in the Canary Islands!" He grinned, as the gasps and murmurs turned to excited whispers. "All the hits that you loved, going around the world one more time! My thank you to all of you here and around the world for being the best damned fans in rock and roll!"

Applause ripped through the crowd. Warrick held up his hands and made a motion to quiet down. "And in every stop, our Spot the Difference campaign will donate 75% of all ticket sales to local charities, giving back, one stop-" here he paused, and gave an overexaggerated wink, "Or should I say, _spot_ , at a time!"

That did it. The flashbulbs went off, the cheers erupted, the music kicked back in, and Elena reached for a flute of champagne, surprising Sam as she downed it in one gulp.

* * *

Nate felt the driving bass return through the ceiling as he stared at Maria Dominquez. "Protected?" he asked. "What, like, are you religious or something?"

Maria nodded, her eyes getting that faraway look again. "Or something," she said. "It sounds like the party has returned in full gear upstairs," she said. "I should let you return to your guard dog duty."

"Right." Nate nodded. "Yeah, I should do that." He moved to slip by her to the door.

"May I see your badge?"

Nate paused, one foot in the hall. "Sorry?"

"Your badge," Maria repeated, walking toward him again. "You _are_ Miami PD, correct?"

Nate swallowed. _Damn it_. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, you know," he said, pretending to fumble in his pockets, "damn it, I think it might've fallen out somewhere, I should probably-"

He didn't see where it had come from, but a split second later, a loud, blaring alarm erupted throughout the house. Maria's nine millimeter was pointed at him, and Nate dove into the hallway as a bullet shattered the glass of the painting right next to the door he'd just been standing in.

* * *

Upstairs, the music came to a screeching halt as the alarm filtered its way over the sound of the speakers. Elena and Sam jumped in surprise at the sound. "Nate," Elena breathed.

"We should go," Sam said, taking her gently by the elbow and helping lead her into the crowd that was slowly filtering outside. He nearly ran into Warrick, who was helping guide traffic to the exits, two men in dark suits and one in a Miami-Dade uniform at his side, conversing in voices loud enough to be heard over the alarm. "Hell of a party, Mr. Warrick," Sam said again as they made their way past him.

The rocker narrowed his eyes at him. "Indeed. I'm sorry the evening has ended on such a sour note," he told Elena.

"That's all right, Rhean," Elena said sweetly. "I think you hit _all_ the high notes. This evening was… _illuminating,"_ she added with a smile tossed over her shoulder as Sam ushered her outside.

* * *

Nate scrambled out the downstairs window and across the lawn. The alarm was a little muted in the backyard thanks to all the greenery. His hand reached for the fence to climb back over when something grabbed his foot and yanked him back to the ground. He hit the ground on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

His assailant wore a dark suit with an earpiece. Nate kicked up, catching the guy in the knee, then rolled onto his stomach and scrambled to his feet, throwing a sloppy punch that caught the suit across the jaw. The suit coughed and spit out a tooth, and Nate seized the opportunity to leap onto the fence, and pull himself over, before taking off at a dead sprint down the beach.

A car squealed to a stop right next to him and Nate whirled, ready for a fight. The back passenger door opened and Nate saw his brother's face. "Need a ride, little brother?" Sam offered with a grin. Nate leapt into the Uber driver's vehicle, spotted his wife up front with the driver, a young girl who didn't look older than twenty-five, and who looked slightly terrified.

Elena smiled at her. "Extra twenty percent on top of your fare if you forget you ever drove us," she offered.

The girl swallowed, and nodded. She stepped on the gas again, and Nate leaned back in his seat, breathing hard.

"How was your night?" Sam questioned him, and Nate barked out a short laugh.

"Scary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fun-filled randomness: all the 'cursed' artifacts from Warrick's creepy room are all based on real items in real life. The ones I referenced were "Little Bastard," "The Hands Resist Him," "The Busby Stoop Chair," and the "Basano Vase." All found in a mentalfoss article titled 10 Allegedly Cursed Objects Throughout History. A fun bedtime read ;)


	9. Family Matters

_**Saturday  
The Cassandra** _ **, Miami Marina**

Nate dropped his duffel right inside the door and limped his way over to the couch and sat down. His brother followed him inside and made his way directly to the galley, tossing his brother an ice pack. "All right, little brother, next time I do the B&E and you wear the tux."

"Yeah," Nate grimaced. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan." He was grateful the night before had been spent in a room with a decent bed and the ice machine right down the hall.

"You keep this up, you're gonna end up needing to replace that knee," Sully warned him as he took a seat at the table.

"Hey you've gotta admit, the fact that it's taken this long for something serious to happen to me is pretty impressive," Nate countered.

Sully raised an eyebrow as he ticked off on his fingers, "Getting drugged in Yemen, Nadine kicking your ass in Italy, getting shot in Nepal-"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it," Nate shook his head.

"Having to climb out of a derailed train, crashing a plane in Borneo-"

"Jesus, Sully, I _get_ it," Nate cut the older man off, rolling his eyes.

"At least tell me it was worth it," Sam said. "Did you get somethin'?"

"Yes and no," Nate replied. "Let's wait until the girls get-oh, never mind," he said, smiling as Elena and Cassie walked onto the boat, laughing about something. Cassie had wanted to spend the morning in the hot tub at the hotel, so Nate had arranged for late checkout for the two of them so they could have the room a little longer. "Hey, Cassie," he said, grinning at his daughter, who was in her swimsuit top and a black wrap. "Was the hot tub everything you hoped it would be?"

"And then some," Cassie replied contentedly, squeezing her father's shoulder before heading back to her room to change. "I think we need a hot tub for the boat."

"Oh sure, I'll get right on that," Nate told her, laughing.

Elena tucked her sunglasses back behind her ears and set her overnight bag down before grabbing a cup of coffee from the galley and taking a seat next to her husband on the couch. "Did we miss anything important?"

"Sully rolling through my greatest hits," Nate muttered under his breath.

"Anyway, now that we're all here," Sam said, "Nate, you were saying?"

"Right." Nate straightened a little. "The answer to your question is no, the Chalice wasn't down in Warrick's Little Shop of Horrors, but Maria Dominquez _was_."

"Uncle Sam's girlfriend?" Cassie questioned, coming out of her bedroom, now in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

Nate eyed his brother with a _see what you've done_ look in his eye before replying, "She didn't have the Chalice either but she practically confirmed she knows where it is before she took a potshot at me."

"Warrick was practically waving it in our face, too," Elena said. "All that talk of 'world changing' news and all the charity stuff. There's definitely something going on."

"Plus, he called me and Sully pirates," Sam added. "So, I don't like him."

Nate snorted. "Yeah, he's definitely playing up the rockstar philanthropist angle. Maria said something about the band learning all the local myths and legends…I bet he picked up on the Chalice that way." He shivered. "She was definitely a Cheetah Tonic groupie…of the Charles Manson variety."

"What do you think they'll do with the Chalice?" Sully wondered.

"I'm for melting it into a nice paperweight," Sam offered.

The adults were silent for a moment, thinking plans and strategy. Cassie broke the silence. "Where did you say he was kicking off his tour, Mom?"

"Ah, the Canary Islands," Elena said distractedly.

Her daughter nodded. "Good place to cause a disaster like Caracas," she pointed out.

Nate glanced at his daughter, and Cassie stood up, pointing to the framed world map on the wall. "See, the Canary Islands, they're really close to the Eurasian and African plates, so like, a prime spot for another earthquake. Or…closing off the Straits of Gibraltar, disrupting international shipping. Plus, it's like a hot touristy spot, isn't it?"

Nate's eyes widened as his daughter laid out the implications. "There's no way he picked that place by accident," Cassie continued. " _And_ , the Paradiso hotel chain just opened up a new property there. I bet he's using that as his cover."

She crossed her arms over her chest and waited, watching the adults mull that information over. Finally, Cassie saw her mother shake her head. "How did you get to be so smart, kiddo?"

Cassie shrugged. "I mean, it's obvious," she said flatly.

Sam and Sully both hid a grin as Nate said, "Oh, right. Yeah, totally obvious." He winked at Cassie, and she grinned, sitting down at the table next to her uncles. Sam gave her a side-armed hug.

"So clearly we need to get to the Canary Islands," Elena said. She looked at her husband. "Maybe-"

"Ohhh no," Nate cut her off. "No, there's no way I'm letting _you_ go."

"Why not?" Elena asked. "Sam and I make a great team."

Sam raised his mug at his sister-in-law in agreement. "And you're not exactly in the best shape right now," she added.

"No way," Nate repeated firmly. "For one thing, someone's gotta make sure our business doesn't go belly-up during all this."

"Nate, if the world ends, we won't really have to worry about that," Elena argued.

He paused. "Fair. But, look, Sam told me about your run-in with Warrick the other night. I don't trust him around you as far as I can throw him, and let's face it, right now I'm not throwin' much of anything. Besides," he added, nodding past Elena at Cassie, "someone's gotta take care of our kid. We can't just leave her alone."

"Especially if Warrick's done his homework, as I suspect he probably has," Sully agreed. "Nate's right, you shouldn't be anywhere near that guy."

"But I just _helped_!" Cassie protested. "I wanna come with you guys! I can help you more!"

"Absolutely not," Elena told her. "No, your dad's right."

Nate blinked. "Wait, I am?"

Elena fixed him with a glare. "As much as I hate to admit it, yes. Look, I'll take _Cassandra_ back to New Orleans and work on finishing the _Tia Alma_ deal, and editing the footage for our upcoming episodes. Cassie can finish up her schoolwork so we can get it all turned in. The three of you should go to Spain and stop Warrick and Maria."

Cassie said, "But Mom-"

"Nope, kiddo. That's it. That's final." Nate could hear it in his wife's voice that she wasn't happy with the turn of events, but he also knew that she agreed with him.

It didn't make him feel better.

Cassie got up and stalked to her room. They heard the door click shut in the hall.

Nate sighed, running a hand down his face. "Guys, can you give the two of us a minute?" Nate asked Sam and Sully. The two of them nodded, getting up from the table and making their way to the stern to go sit out on the swim deck, leaving Elena and Nate alone in the cabin.

"We just can't seem to stay out of trouble, can we?" Nate groaned, leaning back against the couch cushions and closing his eyes.

"Pretty sure trouble finds us, it's a Drake family trait," Elena replied. "I thought we both agreed after…after Avery, that we'd be done with all this."

"Can we?" Nate asked. "With the Chalice out there, and nobody else knowing what we know? Can we just walk away from this?"

He looked at her. "You tell me that we can, and I'll do it," he promised.

Elena sighed. "No," she said finally. "I don't trust anybody else with this. You and Sam and Sully….you guys have to be the ones. I don't like it, and it pisses me off that it's the truth, but it really is." She shook her head. "We have to save the world, again."

"I hate that you're disappointed," Nate told her. "I can hear it in your voice. But we can't leave Cassie-"

"Believe me, I'd love to be coming with you," Elena said. "The fact is, I can't just walk away from this. I tried, once. And as much as you drive me _crazy_ with this damn hunt for fortune and glory and mystical _nonsense_ …" Elena ran a hand down his face and took his hand. "It's part of the reason I love you so much. But I will tell you this, Nathan Drake." She took his chin in both her hands. "So help me God, if you don't come back to Cassie and I in one piece, I will drop you where you stand, or I will raise you from the dead and kill you myself, and don't think I won't figure out how to do it."

"Oh, I'm well aware," Nate replied quietly, seriously. He sighed. "Cassie. I should-"

"No, let me worry about that," Elena said. "That kid thinks the world of you. She wants to be just like you."

"Oh, God," Nate breathed, only half-joking.

Elena nodded with a small smile. "I know, right? I know we tried so hard to mix family life and our crazy adventures into something normal for her."

"Yeah, that's kinda coming back to bite us in the ass," Nate said.

His wife nodded, resting her head against his shoulder.

A laptop screen was shoved in their faces, and Elena and Nate looked up to see Cassie, eyes red-rimmed from crying, holding her laptop in front of them. "Maria Dominquez is on the 3:10 to Madrid," she said. "Seat 2A in first class. Warrick is leaving tomorrow morning on a private jet from Miami straight into Tenerife." She snapped the laptop shut and stalked back to her bedroom.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment. "We should really talk about this whole hacking thing," Nate said.

"I know you taught her how to shoot a gun over Christmas break," Elena countered.

The two of them stared at each other.

"About that whole 'normal' thing," Nate said, shaking his head.

Elena closed her eyes. "Yeah," she said. "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just started playing Uncharted 4 this weekend, my husband and I are trading off as we go through it :) I'm working on getting a handle on Sam's 'voice' in the story, hopefully his characterization was OK so far, I'll work on getting him close to in-game Sam/Troy Baker in later chapters.


	10. In Retrospect

**Madrid-Barajas Airport, Madrid, Spain**

Nate moved at a clipped pace along the moving walkway, making a beeline for the gate for their connecting flight, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He was exhausted, and his knee was killing him. _Once this is over,_ he promised himself, _we're going on vacation for real._ _Preferably somewhere with acupuncture and room service!_

 _I'm gettin' too old for this shit._ Maybe Sully was onto something all along.

He finally spotted their flight on the big screen: MAD-TFS Gate 4D, and it was reassuring to know they were moving in the right direction. Sam and Sully had disappeared on a side quest to see if they could spot Warrick or Maria in the frequent flyers lounge. They hadn't been able to see Maria on the plane-coach had boarded from the back and first class was through a different door closer to the front in Miami. But Cassie had gotten her seat number, so they knew she had been on the 737 _somewhere_.

_What if we lost her, and we're wrong about all this?_

Nate hopped off the moving walkway, sweating in his jeans and white Henley. The temperatures in Madrid were pushing 90 outside, and it felt warmer than that inside the terminal. He parked himself in the nearest chair at Gate 4D and closed his eyes, breathing heavily. It was a short connection and it had been a long run, and he was exhausted after the whirlwind trip. The flight had been nearly 9 hours. Out of habit, he pulled out his phone and thumbed the lock screen, then pulled up his text messages.

_Flight's boarding. Call you when we land in Madrid._

_Landed in Madrid. Hotter than hell._

He stared at his phone, willing the dots of Elena's reply to appear, or the goofy picture of her and Cassie on a trip to Kodiak in Alaska to appear on the lock screen.

Nothing.

Nate hung up the phone with a hiss of frustration, running his hands through his hair. "Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_."

"Hey, take it easy, little brother," Sam said as he came over to sit next to his brother, Sully on his heels, noticing the looks Nate was getting from other passengers in the boarding area. "What the hell's going on?"

"It's Elena," Nate said, frustrated. "I've texted her twice and tried calling and I can't get ahold of her."

"It ain't like Elena hasn't dealt with you going incommunicado before."

"Yes, Sam," Nate said through his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm. "Except this time our _daughter_ is with her and I can't get ahold of either one. I don't know if it's just bad cell reception or if Warrick's on to us or if something happened to the boat…" He sank down into a chair, Sam and Sully on either side of him. "Jesus Christ," he swore, the full realization of the past few weeks finally catching up to him. "God, I….we just jumped feet first into this damn international mystery and I didn't even _think_ -" He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was _so_ determined to find this thing, and then when Cassie was showing off her skills, I was so proud, you know? Like, the whole family was just gonna be doing this big adventuring thing…"

Sam waited to speak, partly because he didn't know what to say, and partly because he knew his little brother had more to say. He glanced at Sully over the top of Nate's head. Sully nodded knowingly.

"You know, Cass asked me once if I missed how it was before she was born. And I told her I didn't but the truth is…I kinda did. The first sign of the Judas Chalice, and my brain, it was like autopilot into explorer mode. I didn't even stop to think, not _once_ , about involving everybody else in all this."

Nate looked up, met his brother's gaze. "If my selfishness puts Elena and Cassie in danger…"

Over the murmur at the gate of the first call for boarding, Sully spoke up. "Listen, Nate," he told him. "Elena married you knowing _exactly_ who you are and what you're like. Hell, I know for a fact she happily joined you more than once on these crazy escapades! Maybe not Tibet, and probably not Avery's treasure," he added as an afterthought, and Nate shook his head. Sully continued, "I also know that she wouldn't have taught Cassie what she knows, or brought her with on your jobs, if she didn't want Cassie to be involved somehow."

"And Cass?" Sam added. "Cass is a smart kid. Not sure how that happened, with you as her dad, but it's true. I've talked to her, Nate. She _loves_ her life. She _loves_ learning about history hands-on from you and her mom. Cassie _loves_ being right in the middle of a discovery with the two of you, okay? I know for a fact she has zero regrets." He clapped Nate on the back as they stood up to join their boarding group. "Besides, little brother," he said pointedly, putting his hands on his shoulder and forcing Nate to look at him. "You wouldn't have told Cassie about all your adventures if you didn't want her to be involved at least a _little_ bit."

It was the truth, but it stung. Nate sighed. "You know something, I hate it when you're right."

Sam shrugged. "Get used to it, it's happened a lot. And I'm gonna tell you something else I know you'll know I'm right about. Right now your focus right now has gotta be Warrick and gettin' that Chalice from him."

"Elena and Cassie are fine," Sully reassured him, clapping him on the back. But the look he shot Sam over Nate's shoulder wasn't as confident.

"I hope you're right," Nate said, doubtfully, turning his phone over in his hands as he shouldered his backpack. He looked at Sam. "I screwed up once before. I can't let it happen again."

"Well, if it makes you feel better," Sam began, and the tone of his voice had Nate's heart drop even farther than it already was.

"Don't tell me," he pleaded.

"We talked our way into the high roller's lounge, and there's no sign of Maria _or_ Warrick," Sully broke it to him. "We've been in all the bars, all the lounges, hell, I even asked airport security to check the women's bathrooms. She's not in this terminal."

Nate swore under his breath in every language he knew. "If we lose them-"

"Hey, hey, everybody just relax," Sam said. He looked at Nate. "Have a little faith in your kid, please? Cassie said she was on the flight, okay? And here, look at this." He handed Nate his phone. He'd pulled up a website of a resort in Tenerife, right on the coast. Rhean Warrick's beaming face was plastered on the top banner. "Son of a bitch is advertising his location, okay? They might not be here, in Madrid," Sam said, "but we know where he's going."

Their zone was called, and the three men stood up. "We've got him," Sam promised Nate. "We get the Chalice, we get him to confess to his evil world domination plan like a bad Bond villain, and then we all go back to New Orleans. And then we're done." He looked his brother in the eye. "For good, even, if you want to be."

Nate glanced over at Sully. The look in his eyes was pained.

"One last time."

* * *

Seated in 16B on the smaller jet bound for the Canary Islands waiting for takeoff, Nate couldn't help himself. He pulled out his phone one final time, hiding it in his lap when the flight attendants walked by for final checks. He thumbed the lock screen.

Nothing.

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. _Sam and Sully are probably right,_ he thought to himself. _The girls are fine._

_They have to be fine._

He closed his eyes as the jet started to move underneath him. His mind drifted, back to the conversation he and Elena had had on the way home from Madagascar.

" _I feel like apologizing to you for the rest of my life won't be enough," Nate admitted, somewhere in the dark over Africa. He hadn't let go of Elena's hand since the plane had taken off to hit their connection in Amsterdam._

" _You were kind of an ass," Elena agreed, running her thumb over the back of his hand. The two of them spoke in low tones. "But um…" She bit her bottom lip. "I can kinda see why you did what you did."_

" _I don't know if I ever thanked you for coming after me."_

_She smiled at him. "Well, somebody had to pull yours and your brother's asses out of the fire," she teased._

_He snorted. "Yeah, literally," he admitted, thinking back to the flaming ship. He stared at the seat display in front of him, watching the tiny jet move on the flight tracker map. "Sword fighting in a burning, treasure-filled pirate ship."_

" _One to tell the grandkids someday," Elena said quietly._

" _Yeah." Nate paused, letting her words sink in. "Wait." He twisted in his seat so he was looking at her._

_Elena grinned._

" _You're-"_

_She nodded._

" _We're-"_

" _How do you think Sully will feel about being Uncle Victor?"_

* * *

He felt his ears pop, another memory surfacing.

" _I'm not saying that we_ never _tell her," Nate argued, fumbling for the tiny vial containing the glowing, blue resin from Shambhala. He shook it, letting the neon glow wash over his fingers. "Just…"_

_Elena held six-month-old Cassandra Morgan Drake on her hip, watching her husband fill the cabinet with all of their found treasures. Cassie was fascinated by the blue glow and kept trying to reach for it._

_Nate set it on the shelf. "I don't want her to know that her dad was…was…"_

" _A shady pirate?" Elena grinned. Nate shot her a dirty look. "Oh come on, Nate. For one thing, you know that's not the right way to explain it. And for another, why shouldn't she know that her mom and dad discovered three lost cities, a massive pirate treasure, a cursed idol-" She was ticking them off her fingers as she went._

_Nate closed the cabinet door and sat down on the floor in front of it. Elena met him, setting Cassie down to roll on the rug in front of them. "Nate, all this is a part of you. Of us, and our story. You can't keep it locked away from her forever."_

" _But what if she finds out and-"_

" _Let her make her own decisions," Elena said gently. "You and Sam chose to make your own life, make your own decisions. Someday, when she's old enough, we'll tell her, and then she can decide what she thinks of all of it."_

* * *

The plane was climbing now. Nate's mind was on the day they'd told her everything, out on the boat, fishing poles in the water, sun shining down. How in _awe_ of everything Cassie had been. About El Dorado, about Ubar.

" _Why didn't you tell me sooner?"_

 _Nate and Elena had exchanged a look. "I think it's awesome!"_ _she had proclaimed. "Like, this puts all our time doing stuff for Mom's show, doing all those diving trips, it all makes sense now!" She'd thrown her arms around her father. "Are there other lost cities? What are Uncle Sam and Uncle Sully doing in Cuba? Are they looking for lost treasures? There's a ton of ships and stuff in the Caribbean, right?"_

_Her enthusiasm had been so catching, it was hard not to smile._

Would he go back and change it? Would he have never told his daughter about all his adventures? As the jet reached cruising altitude, he stared out the window.

 _No, Nate, you wouldn't_.

And he wasn't sure right at that moment if that was a good sentiment or not.


	11. Farewell Tour

_**Puerto de la Cruz, Tenerife** _

Nate stepped out of the cab into a throng of tourists and paparazzi milling around the El Cielo Hotel. The weather in Tenerife was much preferable to the heat bubble in Madrid, and he was thankful for the ocean breezes cooling things off. Though, he admitted, the fact that he was in an island paradise did little to ease the pit in his stomach.

"Half of Europe is here," Sully muttered under his breath as they blended in with the crowd. "How the hell are we gonna find Maria?"

"Could have Cassie run through the CCTV," Sam suggested to Nate. "Maybe she can find her somewhere." Three college-age women walked by them in bikinis and wraps and Sam's eye followed them. "Or we follow the crowd to where the action is."

"That's the wrong kind of action we're after," Nate elbowed his brother in the side. "But maybe splitting up is our best option. Sully, see if you can talk your way into where they're setting up for Warrick's concert. Sam-"

"I volunteer to check out poolside," Sam grinned.

Nate rolled his eyes. "Fine, just don't get arrested and keep your hands to yourself." He took a breath and let it out. "I'll try to get ahold of Cassie and Elena and see if they can pull a room number or something."

"Why don't we just confront Warrick direct?" Sully asked him. "Grab the chalice, shoot the bastard, hit the bar."

"As tempting as that would be," Nate replied over his brother's snicker, "we don't know where the Chalice is. Plus, if we're gonna get him on this, I want him to go down for good. No more of this 'we are the world' philanthropy crap. If he's responsible for Caracas, going for something bigger here, I want him to rot knowing he failed miserably."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "That's a new direction for you-for us," he amended.

Nate sighed. "Yeah well, maybe I'm getting soft in my old age. Just, call if you find anything, all right?"

The Drake brothers and Sully split up, and Nate headed into the hotel. The air conditioning was a relief, and he took a second just inside the door to collect himself, before walking up to the front desk. The clerk gave him a look, but Nate figured he blended in well enough in his Bermuda shorts and cotton button-up. " _Buenos dias_ ," he greeted her, flashing her a friendly smile. "Lots going on today, huh?"

The desk clerk, a petite brunette with gorgeous almond eyes, not that Nate was looking, smiled back at him. "Big vacation weekend," she replied. "And, of course, Rhean Warrick is here to kick off his big tour."

"No shit?" Nate feigned surprise. "Wow, my dad used to love his stuff. He's here, at the hotel?"

She nodded. "Do you like rock music, Mr…."

"Oh, sorry." Nate pulled his passport out and handed it to her. "Drake. Checking in. Yeah, I'm a fan of some good classic rock. Man, what a weekend the wife and I picked to come out here, huh?"

"Very lucky," the clerk agreed. She frowned. "I don't see a reservation for you, Mr. Drake."

"Seriously?" Nate pretended to be annoyed. Then he snapped his fingers. "I bet my wife booked it under her name. Can you try under Dominquez?"

At the clerk's glance, he added, "She's a doctor. Wanted to keep her last name for professional reasons. Can't say I was gonna argue with a woman who could remove my organs in my sleep," he teased, his heart pounding. _The last thing I need is a visit from security, calm the hell down, Nate._

The clerk tapped on a few keys, and Nate waited with bated breath. "It would appear that your wife has checked in already," she said, now clearly suspicious of Nate's story.

Nate sighed. "And this is what I get for stopping off to get her our anniversary present." He shook his head. "She probably thinks I stopped off over at the swim up bar. I think I'll just wait outside and give her a call in a bit. Thanks again." He smiled at her again before heading back outside. A white truck with paneled sides drove past, heading down a back access road into the property. Nate guessed it was either hotel supplies or band equipment.

 _And either way, it's my way in._ He threaded his way through the crowd, making sure his backpack was over both shoulders, squeezed through a gap in the decorative planters outside the hotel, and managed to slip onto the back bumper of the truck just as hotel security turned their backs and the gate closed behind him.

The truck bounced down the access road, and Nate poked his head around the side to see where they were headed. Down toward the black sand beach, he could see a stage setup. They were just raising the video screen for the LED backgrounds to play, and colored lights flashed as they did a lighting check. He wondered how Warrick was going to do what Nate thought he was going to. _Big guitar solo and then a giant tidal wave? Audience singalong followed by a plague of locusts?_

The truck slowed and Nate jumped off, knowing Sully was down at the rigging to meet it, and ducked behind a maintenance shed. He could smell chlorine, and guessed this was for the twin pools in the back of the hotel.

Once he was sure that no one was around, he pulled out his cell phone and called home.

_Hi, you've reached Elena Fisher of D &F Fortunes…_

He felt like throwing the phone. "Damn it," he whispered, ending the call. Nate glanced at his watch, slipped his phone into his chest pocket, and then made his way toward the poolside bar. A crowd of people-some his age, some a little older (obviously Cheetah Tonic groupies, judging by their concert tees), and some Spring-Break aged, filled every available space around the pool. Nate threaded his way through them, using his poor Spanish to excuse himself, until he spotted Sam sidled up to the bar, two girls who looked young enough to put him in jail on either arm.

Sam didn't even see him come up. Nate threw an arm around him. "Hey, honey, there you are," he said, loud enough for the girls to hear. They both exchanged a look and then took their drinks elsewhere.

Sam shot him a dirty look. "Find what you were looking for?" Nate asked him pointedly.

"No sign of Maria," Sam said. "Figured this was a good vantage point to see everything, but I haven't seen her yet. You get anything on a room number or…?"

Nate shook his head. "No. And I still can't get ahold of Elena."

Sam frowned. "That's a little odd."

"Yeah, I know." Nate ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Damn it."

Sam slid his local beer over to Nate. "You need this more than I do," he said. "Okay, so then what's our next move?"

"Nothing unusual down at the stage," Sully said as he walked up to them. "Heard a couple guys talkin' about the penthouse in the second building, up there," he added, pointing with one finger to the hotel that towered over them. "Must be where Warrick's at. No sign of the chalice or Maria down there at all."

"Jesus. We have a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time," Nate said. "What the hell are we gonna do?"

Maria Dominquez sidled into Sam's lap, and Nate saw his brother cringe as she settled in. "Hello, lover. Fancy meeting you here. Mr. Warrick wants a meeting with all of you," she purred, stealing Sam's drink and knocking it back. She didn't seem at all fazed by the looks on the faces of the three men.

"Rhean Warrick knows who I am? Flattered," Sully said dryly.

Nate eyed the dark-haired woman. "Where's the chalice?" he asked her.

Maria tangled her fingers in Sam's shirt, playing with the collar of his button-up. "Safe, until it is ready to be used," she said. "It's going to be a hell of a show tonight."

"What's he got planned?" Nate demanded.

"I'm sure he'll tell you all about it. He's up in the penthouse, and he wants you to join him there."

"Into the mouth of the tiger? I don't think so," Sam scoffed. "How about you save us the meet and greet and just go get the chalice for us? Save you on printing up three backstage passes."

"Yeah, you're into saving the environment right?" Nate added.

Maria looped an arm around Sam's neck even as she reached into her top for her phone. "I already have them printed," she said, scrolling through something on her phone, then handing it to Nate.

Nate nearly dropped it. All the color faded from his face.

Maria was showing him a photo. Elena, and Cassie. Elena had her arms wrapped around Cassie, her hands bound in front of her. He couldn't make out where they were based on the photo, Maria had been careful not to put anything in it that was identifiable; all he could see was ocean. Elena looked pissed; Cassie scared. The look on his daughter's face terrified Nate. The horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach was worse.

"Where are they?" Nate hissed in a low whisper. "You hurt my family and I'll drown you with my bare hands right here."

Sam didn't like the look on his little brother's face. "Nathan. Give me the phone," he said slowly, his eyes glaring daggers at Maria.

Wordlessly, his hands shaking, Nate handed the phone to Sam. Sam took one look at it and had to resist dropping Maria off his lap right there, forcing himself to stay calm. He showed the photo to Sully and heard the older man swear under his breath.

Maria plucked the phone out of Sully's hand and dropped it back into her bra. "They're safe, for the moment," Maria said, still playing with Sam's collar. "But not if you don't meet Mr. Warrick. He's very anxious to meet someone who knows about the chalice."

Nate didn't bother pretending he didn't know what she was talking about. "We meet with him, you let them go?"

She nodded.

Nate's tone was deadly. "Let's go."

* * *

The penthouse at the El Cielo had its' own elevator, and Nate, Sam, and Sully were flanked by three big roadies in the lobby as Maria pushed the button for the top floor. They rode in silence, Nate's heart pounding in his ears. _When I get my hands on Warrick…screw bringing him in. He's got my family. That makes this personal._ _He's a dead man._

The elevator door dinged and they stepped into a bright white hallway with a framed ocean print on the wall. One of the roadies grabbed Nate's arm and yanked him forward as he opened the suite's door.

The penthouse was huge, nearly the size of Nate and Elena's beachfront home. A king-size bed was against the wall in the bedroom; in the bathroom, Nate spotted a walk-in shower, pedestal sink and a Jacuzzi tub. The main room held a full-size bar, high-top table with a few stools bolted into the floor around it, and what Nate guessed was Warrick's personal dressing table. The thing was painted in cheetah print, the mirror's edges were framed with old tour photos and album covers.

Warrick sat at the table, working his silver hair into his trademark ponytail. The rocker was dressed in cheetah-print bell bottom pants, and a black t-shirt under a cheetah-print leather vest.

"Hey!" Warrick grinned into the mirror, noticing the group come in. "Finally, I get to meet you in person, Nathan Drake." His eyes caught Sam's in the mirror. "And Sam Drake! Nice to see you again, man."

"Yeah, it's a real thrill," Sam muttered under his breath.

Nate yanked his arm out of the grip of the big roadie that was holding him and got right in Warrick's face. He hauled him up by the lapels of his vest, pinning him to the dressing table. "Where's my _family_?" he growled.

In his peripheral vision, he spotted two of Warrick's men moving to help their boss, but Warrick held up one ring-encrusted hand. "Hey, it's cool, gentlemen," he told them. "Man's looking out for his family; there' s nothing wrong with that.

"Besides," he added, looking Nate in the eyes, the friendly expression disappearing from his face in an instant, "If he snaps my neck right now, you boys have my permission to kill his family and make him watch."

Nate's grip tightened on his vest.

"Nate!" Sully called warningly from across the room.

Warrick's voice was calm and even. "So what do you say, Nathan?"

Sam could see his brother wrestling with himself internally and wished the asshole pinning his arms didn't have such a damn good grip. "Nathan," he called out, calmly. "Nate. Let him up. Let's give the bastard his speech and his fifteen minutes of fame. We both know it's all he's gonna get after we're done with him anyway."

Warrick laughed. "Oh yeah, you can totally tell the two of you are related," he noted, as Nate let him up and was pulled roughly back by Maria, who was now holding a pistol to the back of his neck. Warrick straightened, adjusting his clothing, and turning back to the mirror, applying a thin layer of foundation to his face. But see, here's the thing, guys," he said conversationally. "Fifteen minutes of fame is all I wanted this time around anyway."

He turned to face them, finally. "See this ain't just the beginning of my world tour." He got in Nathan's face.

"It's also my final stop."


	12. Behind the Music

Pain exploded in Nate's knee as the roadie holding him shoved him forcefully to the floor. On either side of him, Sam and Sully were in the same position. He grimaced and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything.

Sam saw the look on his face, though, and glared at Warrick murderously.

Warrick finished with his stage makeup. "Careful," Sully growled at him, "put too much of that on and you might go up in flames under the lights." It earned him a shove from the guy holding him.

"We can hope," Sam muttered, and then groaned as Maria kneed him in the back. "Hey," he coughed out. "If you wanted it rough, all you had to do was ask."

"Sam, shut up," Nate whispered, his eyes on Warrick. His heart was pounding, thinking of Cassie and Elena, and knowing they had to get out of this mess first before he could find them. "So you're gonna pull a martyr act, Warrick?" he asked.

Warrick turned to look at him. His expression was almost…sad. "Listen, Nate-can I call you Nate?"

Nate's voice dripped venom. "No."

Warrick ignored him, continuing. "You and I have been around this world a lot. Oh yeah," he added at the look on Nate's face, "I've been following your career with some interest. You and your wife both. We've been watching…trying to see if you'd be a good addition to our cause." He got up, pacing in front of the window. "I've been all over the world. Almost every continent. At least 50 countries. And everywhere I go…it's the same story. Awful people, doing terrible things. Genocide. School shootings. Civil war. The rich and powerful looking down their noses at the poor and destitute. And me and the boys, well, we've tried to fix it. Charity campaigns. Crossover singles to raise money." He paused, leaning against the window pane. "But it's never enough. It never ends."

He turned to look at Nate. "You understand. You've been in a lot of places. Met some horrible people. Our cause….maybe it's time to start over from scratch. God promised he wouldn't send a flood again to wipe out the wicked…but someone _has_ to. Those people down there?" He tossed a thumb backwards out the window. "They _worship_ me. But they don't support my mission. More money tonight will be spent on the open bar and a t-shirt than will go into the coffers for people who _need_ it."

"Your other bandmates know you were a psychopath?" Sully asked him.

Warrick shrugged. "They were on board with the cause...for awhile. But then...it was all about the music. The price of fame. Everything that was part and partial to the job. And they strayed from the path." He sighed, sounding almost apologetic. "And they became examples."

"Holy _shit_ ," Sam gasped.

"You killed them," Sully realized.

"It's easy enough to fake a drug overdose, and well, with the culture, it just sorta comes with the territory." Warrick walked over to the dressing table, pulled something out of a cheetah-print leather bag. Nate's eyes widened at the sight of the Judas chalice glinting dully under the fluorescent bulbs. He watched as Warrick filled it with water from a bottle on the table. "It's ironic, isn't it," he murmured, holding the chalice at eye level in the mirror. "That the world would be cleansed and saved by the man who once betrayed the Savior of the world?"

"You're no god," Nate told him. "And you're not some Savior. You're just a washed-up has-been _murderer_ coming off the peace, love and drugs of the 70s. You can think of yourself as some holier-than-thou martyr for a cause, but nobody down there will remember you for any of the good. They'll just remember you as the lead singer of a rock band that died in a blaze of glory!"

Maria cold cocked him with the barrel of her pistol and Nate dropped to his hands and knees on the tile floor, his vision swimming. He was vaguely aware of Sully and Sam calling his name. Nate blinked several times, trying to clear his blurry vision. Pain rocketed up his knee.

"A blaze of glory," Warrick mused, nodding to Maria. "Funnily enough," he said, some of the coldness returning to his voice, "I just so happen to have a killer fireworks show planned for the end of the night. He eyed Nate and the others as he took a sip from the chalice. Nate swore he saw the chalice shimmer with its' own light-though that could have been the headache.

Warrick set the chalice on the table. "'For behold, the day is coming,'" he quoted. "'The day that is coming shall set them ablaze'. Malachi," he added.

"Where are Elena and Cassie?" Nate demanded, feeling the pinch on his wrists of a pair of zip ties tethering his wrists behind his back to one of the bar stools bolted into the floor. He saw one of the roadies haul Sam to his feet and drag him into the bathroom; Maria pushed Sully to the open closet. He struggled, trying to get the ties to give. "So help me, Warrick, if you hurt my family-"

"Relax, man," Warrick said placatingly. "I like your wife. She's all right." The way he said it made Nate's blood boil. "She's fine. So is your kid. I mean, for now, anyway. They're close. I wanted to give them a chance to hear the show, get a front row view. Y'know it's been drier than dry here for the past few weeks. This whole island's gonna go up like a tinderbox. I don't want them to suffer. Their only sin is their affiliation with you." He threaded an arm through Maria's. "Let's head down," he told her. "Don't want to keep the fans waiting," he added. He shot Nate the universal sign for 'rock and roll', and then he, Maria, and the two big roadies left the penthouse.

"You okay, kid?" Sully questioned him, flexing his bound wrists that Maria had tied to the closet rod. He grabbed the closet rod in his hands and gave the rod a yank. The metal rod didn't budge. "Shit."

Nate felt sick. "Yeah," he lied. "Yeah, I'm good. We need to get out of here, and fast. Sam!" he yelled. "Sam, you good?"

Sam's voice echoed from the bathroom. "Yeah!" Nate heard metal clanking, and guessed Sam had been tied to the towel rack in the shower. "Goddamn, this place spent the big bucks to make sure nothing was gonna fall off the wall."

"You've got the best bet of all of us," Nate told him. "Keep trying!"

"Nate, what are we gonna do once we get out of here?" Sully questioned him. "Anything in history tell us how to _stop_ one of these natural disasters once the chalice gets them rolling?" He pulled _hard_ on the bar again.

"I don't think you can," Nate said, trying to reach into his pocket for his Swiss Army knife. "I think our only bet now is to get as many people out of here as we can," he added grimly. "And hopefully nail Warrick's ass to the wall while we're at it! Jesus, he killed his entire band.."" His mind was still reeling from that revelation. "He's out of his mind. We gotta stop him."

"Well, we gotta start by gettin' ourselves outta- _here_!" Sam grit his teeth and leaned on the towel rack with his full body, then _pulled_. The shower rack groaned, and then popped out of the tiles with a resounding _crack_ , raining pieces of the backsplash on his head and shoulders. Sam slid his hands down the bar and off, sprinting into the main room. "Where's your knife?" he asked his brother, skidding to a stop next to him.

"Back left!" Nate replied, feeling his brother reach for the tool in his back pocket. A minute later, Sam pulled it triumphantly from his brother's pocket, fumbling awkwardly to pop the little blade out. He knelt down, sawing through his brother's ties. They popped loose and Nate immediately returned the favor. Then, Sam went for Sully while Nate went over to the dressing table and examined the chalice. "Whatever happens, it's coming with us," he told them. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he was pale despite his efforts.

"Nate, you sure you're okay? You're limping pretty good," Sam noted with concern.

"I'll be fine. We gotta find Elena and Cassie. Did anybody see _anything_ in that picture we can use to find them?"

"Ocean," Sully said. "That's all I could see."

"Shadows," Sam added. "Wherever they are, it gets sun during the day. And it looked like it was just overhead when that picture was taken."

Nate's mind was racing. "Okay…okay, so ocean, sun…." He closed his eyes, picturing the photo. The look on his little girl's face was motivating enough to fight through the haze that was in his vision. _God_ , but everything hurt. _We're comin' Cassie._

His eyes widened. "Warrick said they've got a front row view. That they're close enough to hear the show." He looked at Sam. "When you guys were scouting this place earlier…is there _any_ place Warrick could've hid them where nobody would be while all this is goin' down?"

Sam nodded. "Too many, that's the problem," he said. "Maintenance outbuildings, boat rentals, not to mention guard shacks, wedding gazebo-"

"Okay. Okay," Nate had to stop pacing for a second and sat down on the bed, his mind running through the possibilities. He closed his eyes, thinking of the photo. _Ocean….shadows…Elena and Cassie…_

His eyes snapped open. The way Elena's hands had been tied in front of her…there was something. "Her wedding ring," Nate breathed. He held his hands in front of her, mimicking his wife's pose in the photo. "She had her hands clasped together, but she was pointing at her ring."

"The wedding gazebo," Sam confirmed. "Okay, we're on it-whoa." Sam stuck an arm under Nate's armpits to hold him up as he tried to get off the bed. "Hell, Nathan, you can barely move."

"You're in no condition to be going anywhere but a doctor," Sully told him. The look Nate shot him made any objections die in his throat. The older man sighed. "Jesus, I'd kill for a cigar right now. All right, what do you want us to do?"

"You guys need to clear out this resort-preferably _before_ Warrick's grand finale." Nate closed his eyes. "I'll go find Elena and Cassie."

"I'm coming with you," Sam said immediately. Nate opened his mouth to protest, but Sam held up a hand. "No, little brother, you're not really in any condition to argue right now. And I will tie your ass right back to that barstool if you object."

"You don't get to argue this one," Sully told Nate firmly. "You boys go. I'll handle things here."

Nate looked at him, and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's go."

"We've got just one problem," Sully noted. "Elevator needs keycard access, and we don't have one."

"Sure we do." Sam held up a hotel keycard between two fingers, a smirk on his face.

"Son of a bitch," Sully crowed. "How-"

"When Maria was settlin' in on my lap earlier, I may have helped myself," Sam shrugged. "She was too busy with her Pussy Galore routine to notice. Now c'mon, let's get the hell out of here before Warrick unleashes hell." He helped Nate to his feet, and the three of them headed for the elevator, Sam slamming the button for the lobby. The three of them burst into the lobby and split up; Sully heading for the concert and the Drake brothers out the back doors of the lobby, just as the opening notes of "The Devil's Own" began to reverberate across the property.

 _Fitting_ , Nate though to himself. He followed his brother, the two of them threading their way through the excited chatter of the crowd that was amassed out on the pool decks and stretching down to the beach. Nate spotted Sully's gray hair and loud Hawaiian shirt moving parallel to them in the crowd.

Sam pulled Nate down behind a white fence as they neared the gazebo. Nate peeked over the top and spotted one of Warrick's big roadies standing just on the steps of the little gazebo, down a tiki-torch lit path. Sam made a motion with his hands- he would take care of the big guy.

That was fine with Nate. His knee throbbed. Sam slipped over the waist-high fence and cut behind some hydrangea bushes lining the little gravel path. Nate heard a grunt of pain as Sam slipped up behind the guy and locked him in a choke hold, easing him to the ground as the bigger man struggled.

Nate was out of his hiding place and half jogging, half limping down the path before Sam even had him on the ground. The step up onto the main platform twinged his knee and he grabbed onto one of the pillars for support. A second later, any thought of pain was gone as he spied Elena and Cassie, huddled together in the dark in a far corner, Elena's arms still around their daughter.

"Nate!" Elena cried, relieved, at the same time Cassie said, "Daddy?"

Nate was at their side in an instant, sawing through the nylon cord around their wrists with his knife. Cassie's hands came loose first and she threw them around her father, crying into his shirt. Nate freed his wife before throwing his arms around both of them, letting them pull him to the floor, and the family took a moment just to be together again. "I'm sorry," Nate whispered into Elena's hair. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry." He kissed the top of Cassie's head. "Hi, baby. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"No, but I was _so_ scared," Cassie told him. "We were so scared he was gonna hurt you and Uncle Sam and Uncle Sully, and-"

"We're okay, Cassie. Everybody's fine." Nate carefully got to his feet, helping Elena and Cassie up. "We gotta go."

Elena spied his limp the instant he stood up. "You're _not_ okay. Nathan Drake. What happened to you?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Nate lied.

Elena eyed him, knowing he was lying. But before she could call him on it, Sam stuck his head in. "Oh, thank _God_ ," he said as Cassie sprinted toward him, throwing her arms around his waist. "Hi, kiddo." Sam returned the hug easily, gave Elena a relieved smile as she helped Nate walk toward him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Nate shot him a Look, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he said, "Come on, Warrick's about to the burn this place to the ground. We gotta stop him and get everybody outta here!" He took Nate over from Elena. "You sure you're up for this?" he asked him, sounding like a broken record.

Nate nodded. "Have to be," he whispered back. "I told Sully one last time and I meant it."

"Be carefully what you wish for," Sam muttered as he and his family headed down to the concert area.


	13. Eleven o'Clock Number

There was nothing faster at creating chaos, Victor Sullivan thought, than pulling a fire alarm. The second the scream of the alarm rent the air, it drowned out even the heavy bass coming from the stage. As he stood near the back of the venue, he could see the mix of fury and confusion on Rhean Warrick's face. Warrick was trying to get people to calm down and settle, but his pleas were falling on deaf ears.

The rocker looked out at the back of the crowd, and spotted Sully leaning against the retaining wall. The look on his face was golden, and Sully couldn't help but give him a satisfactory grin.

His smile faded as there was a burst of light from the back of the stage setup. Blue and red fireworks exploded into the air, and the sparks began raining down in the resort's grass, palm trees, and greenery. _Shit_.

The grass at the edge of the wall sputtered into flames, and Sully jerked out of the way and felt himself getting bumped and jostled by the crowd of people running from the beach back to the main resort, or running from the resort to the safety of the ocean beyond the beach.

"Sully!"

He heard his name, and turned to see Nate, Sam, and _thank God_ , Elena and Cassie pushing their way toward him. Sam grabbed him by the arm and steadied him as the family tried to angle their way to the sides of the crowd where there weren't as many people. Flames licked the sky even as strains of Cheetah Tonic backing tracks mixed in with the screams and panic.

"You okay?" Nate yelled over the insanity around them.

Sully nodded. "Not looking forward to being human barbecue," he replied. "You still got the chalice?" he asked Nate.

Nate nodded, pulling the artifact from the back of his shorts. "How the hell do you reverse this thing?" Sully asked him.

"You don't!" A shot pinged off a metal chair near the family, and the group dove for cover as Maria Dominquez fired her pistol wildly in their direction. Nate dove to the ground, pulling Cassie with him and throwing himself over the top of her.

"You can't stop it! The chaos must continue, so order can be restored!"

"She's taking this superfan thing way too far!" Elena yelled from behind Sam.

"Yeah, no shit!" Sam agreed, then ducked as another shot cracked the concrete next to the retaining wall.

"Give me the chalice!" Maria was close enough now that Nate could see the fury in her eyes.

"Not a chance in hell!" Nate yelled back.

Maria took aim. "An appropriate choice of words," she hissed at him.

Nate felt Cassie tense underneath him, and he closed his eyes.

Then, Maria screamed. Nate looked up just in time to see a palm tree, engulfed in flames, come toppling toward them. Nate yanked Cassie hard to the side, rolling in the sand. Maria wasn't as lucky, turning to watch as the palm came tumbling down. Nate put a hand over Cassie's eyes and pulled her close. He looked over her head at Sam, who was in a similar position with Elena. Even Sully looked a bit green.

"Lot's wife," Nate heard Sully say softly.

Nate swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, let's get outta here before we get stuck in Sodom and Gomorrah here," he replied. He pulled his daughter out of the sand. "We gotta find Warrick."

"I'm startin' to think we should just let him burn!" Sam said. Most of the crowd was gone now, running for the resort. Fire crews from the resort and the city were working on battling the fast-moving flames already, but most of the lawns and greenery were an inferno.

"I'm with Sam," Elena put in.

"Got him!" Nate ignored him, the pull to want to see Warrick pay for everything he'd done too strong. He'd spotted Warrick and a couple of his roadie buddies in the white paneled truck Nate had rode into the resort. Forcing himself to run through the pain in his leg, Nate took off after the truck. He turned back, jerking a finger at Sully. "Take Elena and Cassie and get out of here!" he yelled at him, and didn't wait to listen to Sully or Elena protest. He was running with single-minded focus toward the truck, dodging around some burning potted palms and onto the service road.

"Jesus Christ you're fast, slow the hell down!" Nate heard his brother bark at him from behind. Nate didn't slow down, knowing Sam wouldn't have an issue catching up. Sam's footfalls fell in step next to him and the two of them went running for the parking lot. The lot was crammed full of people trying to get off resort.

"We're gonna lose him!" Nate groused as the two brothers skidded to a stop, looking around. The white panel truck was almost to the resort's main gate.

Sam clambered up on top of a car trying to get out. The driver swore at him in Spanish, but Sam ignored him. "The hell we are," he said, grabbing Nate's sleeve. "C'mon!" He yanked his brother up onto the car and pointed. Ahead of them, Warrick's truck had gotten bottlenecked in with the rest of the guests trying to get out. "We gotta get up there," Sam told his brother. He looked at him seriously. "How's the knee?"

Nate's jaw was set, his eyes locked on the truck. "Can't even feel it," he replied tersely, and then he jumped off the hood of the car and onto the top of another one. The driver's foot hit the gas in panic, and he nearly fell off, years of quick thinking and reflexes keeping him from toppling off. He heard a thud behind him and knew Sam was following him. Nate jumped onto the next car, riding it ahead a few feet until he could jump onto the back of an old classic. He hoped Sam was behind him. The white truck was inching closer. If they couldn't get to it before it left the resort, they'd lose Warrick for good.

Nate hopped off the next car, threading his way through the traffic and on top of a truck, jumping from the back of the box onto the cab, then from the truck down to another car. Warrick was about thirty feet ahead of him. He could see Warrick's face in the side mirror of the panel truck, a mix of panic and calm. He thought he was getting away, that his mission was complete.

 _I don't think so_. Nate slid across the hood of another car and then his fingers were on the handle of the white truck. He yanked the door open and hauled the rocker out onto the pavement. "Time for your encore," Nate hissed at him. Around them, nobody seemed to notice him manhandling who had up until about a half hour ago had been the hero of the hour. Everyone now was too concerned with their own self-preservation.

 _Self-fulfilling prophecy_ , he realized. Warrick had just proved his point.

And the silver-toed boot to Nate's bad knee added some punctuation to it. Nate staggered and cried out in agony, dropping like a rock to the pavement, nearly getting run over by a foreign import, and Warrick took off, shoving Sam sideways and into the hood of the truck as he ran past them, heading back toward the resort.

"Musta made a helluva deal with the Devil," Sam coughed, picking his brother off the ground.

"Where the hell is he going?" Nate wondered, leaning on his brother as they looked through the thick smoke. The fire seemed to have a mind of its' own; no matter how much water the firefighters were throwing at it, it seemed to continue to grow into an even bigger monster. The smoke was getting thicker, and the heat from the fire was making it almost unbearable. _Almost like it has a mind of its' own…_

Then, Nate realized something. His hand snaked around to the back of his belt.

"Son of a _bitch_!" he groaned. "Sam, Warrick got the chalice back!"

"What? _How_?"

"I dunno, he must've grabbed it off me while I was trying not to get pancaked by a Renault!" Nate took off. "We gotta get to him-he might decide to burn the whole damn island to the ground!"

"How the hell do we keep gettin' in these situations?" Sam griped as they scaled a fence in search of Warrick.

"The hell if I know," Nate replied, breathing hard. "Let's just hope to God this is the last one."

Sam smirked. "Fitting sentiment," he pointed out. Then, his eyes widened. "Hey I got him- _holy shit!"_ He yanked his brother to the side as a wall of fire came careening at them. Nate felt the hairs on his arm singe.

"Jesus!" Nate swore, daring to poke his head out long enough to see Warrick standing out on the small concrete island in the middle of the biggest pool on the resort-Nate had no idea how he'd gotten there, as he didn't look wet and there wasn't a bridge, and then decided he didn't want to know.

The rocker was glaring in their direction. His eyes…to Nate, at least, it looked like the fire he was conjuring was _in_ his eyes, literally. He didn't have much time to ponder that thought as Warrick sent another wave of flame at him and Sam. He shoulder-rolled forward. "Okay, we have to get to him somehow."

Sam eyed him. "Yeah okay there Peter, you learn how to walk on water recently?"

"Catholic orphanage's payin' off," Nate bit. "Go, go now!" The two brothers burst from their hiding places and advanced, Nate making his way around to the right to the outdoor showers; Sam diving to the left and heading for the swim up bar.

Nate looked up from his hiding spot. All of the greenery, all the decorative plants and trees were glowing with red and orange flames. In the center of the pool, Warrick stood, arms outstretched like a Southern preacher.

"Behold, I am making all things new…"

"You don't just get to pick and choose the ones that work for you, buddy!" Nate yelled at him. Warrick's eyes turned his way and a furnace blast of flame hit the teak walls that made up the showers. The wood held up, but Nate knew it wouldn't take another hit. Somehow, he knew, they had to get to Warrick and end this. Warrick's voice barely carried over the roar of the flames and the crackle of things burning, but Nate was pretty sure he was still quoting Revelations as he kept sending bursts of fire in his direction.

 _That's fine, asshole_ , Nate thought. _I'm good being the distraction_. He saw Sam hop over the bartop and was swimming toward the island. Nate moved again, dodging around a burning deck chair and jumped into the poolside DJ booth as a flicker of flame set the booth's thatched roof alight.

But Sam was on the island. Nate watched him grab onto Warrick from behind, duck under his arm and grab it, trying to pry the chalice from his hands. He almost had it before Warrick, with a burst of supernatural strength, broke free and threw a cross, knocking Sam backwards. Nate watched in horror as his brother stumbled, and his shoe slept over the edge of the concrete. Sam went straight into the pool.

"Sam!" Nate yelled, clambering awkwardly over the booth. His brother hadn't come up.

Warrick spotted him. His eyes under the cowboy hat were ablaze, like the interior of his body was on fire. The rocker looked at him, and then down at the water. And slowly…Nate couldn't see _how_ , but the water itself was sparking, licking flame, like when a trail of gasoline gets lit in the movies.

"Sam!" Nate screamed. _Jesus Christ._ "Sam! Get outta there!"

"Do you see the consuming fire, Nathan Drake?" Warrick called, turning in a slow circle, his arms embracing the entire resort, the chalice in his left hand. "A cleansing fire, to burn things to ash. And out of the ashes, new growth. Imagine, Nathan! A world without all of the horrible, horrific moments that happen every day in every corner of the world! It could be better! It _will_ be better!"

Nate was only half listening, watching for Sam. He finally spotted Sam come up sputtering down at the shallow end of the pool and breathed a sigh of relief. But his brother was too far away now to deal with Warrick.

 _Which means it's up to me_. And Nate had spotted his way in. "Yeah, okay, Warrick," he agreed, moving closer to the edge of the pool. "Yeah, the world sucks sometimes." He held his hands out at his sides, in a pacifying move. _Please don't barbecue me_. "Hell, I have a kid," Nate told him. "And there isn't a day goes by that I hope to God or whoever the hell is listening that she's gonna be safe and respected and the-the sun's gonna shine, but you know what?"

He had Warrick's attention. Hell, he even had _Sam's_. It was like the fire itself had even calmed a bit. "There's always gonna be shitty people in the world doing stupid things," Nate continued. "But to play God and try to cleanse _everything_?" He dove into the water, finding an open spot in the water, swimming across the pool to the other side and jumping out just as the hole closed over in flames. "You don't get to do that-nobody does! That's the thing about free will, Warrick."

Nate hauled it up a pair of criss-crossed palm trees that provided shade for the pool until he was hanging just over Warrick's head. The rocker sent some flames his way, but Nate dodged out of the way. "And by the way," he yelled down at him. "For all your grandstanding out here and quoting Revelations? You're forgetting the most important verse for this situation."

Nate swung, and came flying off the palms, planting his shoes into Warrick's back. The rocker stumbled, flailing with the chalice in his hand, and his eyes met Nate's as Nate dropped in a heap on the island. Nate glared at him. "And the Devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire," he intoned as Warrick screamed and toppled into the pool, taking the chalice with him.

Nate got painfully to his feet. "It is finished," he ground out, and then collapsed.


	14. Encore

For the second time in too many weeks, Nathan Drake woke up in an unfamiliar room he didn't remember getting to on his own. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the low lighting in the room. The window in the corner of the room showed a dark sky. His brother, Sam, was sleeping with his head resting on his arm on the sill. He was wearing a pair of scrub bottoms and his ratty Hanes t-shirt…Nate had a vague recollection of him swimming in a lake of fire, but couldn't remember why. He slowly turned his head, spotted Sully asleep sitting up in a chair-combat nap style. The older man had a few dark smudges here and there on his face and arms.

The corners of Nate's mouth turned up as he glanced down at his hospital bed. Cassie was curled up under one arm, a hand thrown across her dad's chest. Elena was using her arms as a pillow somewhere down by his feet, and her eyes met his.

"Hey," he whispered.

She smiled at him with a contented sigh. "Hey," she replied. "How are you feeling?"

He thought about it. "Well…I'm wondering if there's a good reason I can't feel anything below my knee," he said softly, nodding to his leg. His heart pounded as his mind ran through all the scenarios...none of them good.

Elena responded by running her hand from his knee down to his ankle. To Nate's relief, he could feel her touch through the thing hospital blanket. "Really, _really_ good painkillers," Elena said. "It's still there, I promise."

"Oh. Good. Okay." He closed his eyes in relief. "Warrick. Did he-"

Elena shook her head. "Nobody can really explain it," she began. "Sam said he saw Warrick fall into the pool, he saw you pass out...and then after that, suddenly, the fire just sort of…extinguished itself. They're saying it was the hotel sprinkler system and the firefighters, but…"

"What about the chalice?" Nate shifted carefully, trying not to wake up Cassie. He gently tugged off her glasses with one hand and set them on the table next to the bed.

"No sign of it," Sam spoke up from across the room. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a grin. "Hey, little brother."

"You look like hell," Nate whispered to him, and Sam grinned.

"Yeah. Been there. Still better looking than you. Nah, the chalice is gone. Warrick's lake of fire there melted it into oblivion, and when they drained the pool to get his body out, there was nothing there."

"So it's gone for good?"

"Looks like."

"Doesn't break my heart," Sully mumbled from across the room. "Keep it down, will ya? We're in a hospital and I had to bribe big money to get us all to be able to be in the same room past visiting hours."

"Ever the philanthropist," Nate said, and Sully shrugged. "So when can we get outta this joint?"

"Doctor's saying you might need some physical therapy on the knee," Elena explained.

Nate grimaced "I really _don't_ want to do that," he said. "I'm thinking…two weeks sailing around the Mediterranean and large amounts of pasta."

"Can there be wine involved?" Elena questioned with a smile.

"God. Yes. All the wine. Please."

"Can we go to Athens? Or Rome? Or…or Petra?" Nate glanced down. Cassie was awake, looking up at him hopefully. He looked at Elena with a smile. Then, he poked Cassie's nose.

"Anywhere you want as long as whatever's there has already been discovered," Nate told her. "I think this family needs a break from crazy discoveries for awhile."

Cassie's eyes widened. "But _Dad_ , there's supposedly a codex in the new library at Alexandria that contains the location of _Atlantis_!"

Nate eyed Sully. "Been there, done that," he told her.

Her eyes grew rounder. "Say _what?"_

"Shhh." Nate put a finger to his lips. "You're gonna get us kicked out."

"Besides, there will be plenty of time for adventuring later," Elena spoke up.

"There _will?_ " he blurted out in surprise. Nate looked at her in shock over the top of Cassie's head.

Cassie beamed.

"Oh come on," Elena told him. "You know nobody in this room is ready to retire _just_ yet. I think we've still got a few more in us."

"After everything that _just_ happened to our family?" Nate demanded. "A tsunami, almost getting shot, you two getting kidnapped by a guy who wears more animal print than a rack at Saks? Not to mention the raging inferno that almost killed us all?"

"Hey, we made it out okay," Sam countered.

"And mostly in one piece," Sully agreed, with a nod to Nate's leg.

"Our family kicks _ass_ ," Cassie proclaimed, and Nate shot her a Look. She smiled smugly at the expression on his face. "What? It's not like you can do anything to me right now anyway," she pointed out.

"Besides," Elena told him, slipping a hand into his. "You know you love it."

Nate's mind was thrown back to a moment in Yemen…when he'd said nearly the same thing to her. And his response came easily as he looked around the room, at Sam, at Sully, and finally, on Elena and Cassie.

"Yeah," Nate said, shaking his head with a grin. He kissed the top of Cassie's hair and squeezed Elena's hand. "Yeah, I do."

_Fin._


End file.
